


Keepsake

by ohatotem



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Claustrophobia, Dark, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Self-Harm, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 64,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23557603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohatotem/pseuds/ohatotem
Summary: After he's killed by the Entity, Dwight discovers he is unable to return to the bonfire. The rules of death have changed, and Ghost Face is making offers Dwight may be unable to refuse.
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face
Comments: 109
Kudos: 278





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clairebearsmoothie07](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clairebearsmoothie07/gifts).



> Constructive criticism is welcome.  
> If there's a tag you'd like added, please let me know.

Ghost Face stood above Dwight Fairfield with a heavy boot on top of the closed hatch, wagging his finger as the survivor lay in the mud, both drenched from the downpour of the Red Forest. Dwight could almost see the smirk behind his mask; it wasn’t enough that they got to murder them daily, the servants of the Entity liked to drag it out, too.

The others: Meg, David, and Claudette, were long gone, chased out by the lunatic who was now crouching in front of him. A blade was pointed an inch from the tip of Dwight’s nose, but he kept his eyes trained on the masked man, hoping that by some miracle, he’d change his mind and let him leave.

Ghost Face stared at him calmly before finally removing his digital camera from beneath his robes. Closing his eyes, Dwight lowered his head to the mud as the camera flashed in his face, and awaited the inevitable knife in his back.

“You’re pitiful,” Ghost Face said. The unfamiliar voice coming from the other side of the mask caused Dwight to lift his head in surprise. “I like it.”  
The camera’s shutter clicked again, the flash briefly blinding Dwight as Ghost Face took another photo.

“You can talk?” Dwight asked, trying to rub and blink away the spots in his vision. He didn’t know how to feel about the fact that there was a person under that costume. It was easier to pretend he was a monster without a conscience than to accept that a human was willingly murdering them. It made him sick that a real person was capable of the kind of brutality and torture they committed. Naive it may have been, but Dwight wanted to believe they were figments of their imagination created by the Entity.

“Get up,” Ghost Face said, stepping over him. He viewed the picture on the camera as he made his way in the direction of the killer shack, seemingly more interested in his picture gallery.

Skeptical that he was letting him go, but not about to waste an opportunity presented to him, Dwight pulled himself to his feet and used the trees for balance. A sharp heat pulsed along the gash in his back and up to his spine. He tried to ignore it, grit his teeth and bear the pain as he made his way through the forest and towards the direction he last saw an exit gate. The ground had already begun to crumble beneath his feet, and glowing fissures separated the surface like a cracked geode ready to crumble. Dwight knew he had to hurry, but every step was like being cut again.

The ground was barely visible by the time he had a view of the exit gate, and his heart sank when he’d realized that the exit wasn’t open. Ghost Face slipped from the fog like a real specter, dragging his blade along the solid steel door. Dwight skipped back, nearly slipping in the mud and desperately searched for the second exit, but saw nothing but trees, fog, and wooden structures.

“That’s it. Run again. I like this game,” said Ghost Face.

Dwight went for the lever, knowing full well it wouldn’t do him any good, but he couldn’t just stand there and let it happen without trying something at the very least. He clenched his free fist, ready to throw a punch if he got any closer, regardless if he’d hurt himself trying than it would his pursuer.

As Ghost Face stopped in front of him, he could almost see the last seconds of his death clock reflected in the gleam of his mask as the ground split, and the appendages impaled him. Dwight gasped, unable to scream or make a sound as his body went limp. Ghost Face knelt in front of him, just above eye level.

“Look at me,” he said. When Dwight didn’t obey, he repeated himself and grabbed him by the hair to force Dwight to look at him. “Hold it there. Perfect.”

“Screw… you,” Dwight managed to choke out.

The shutter clicked as Dwight struggled to keep his eyes open, waiting for death to take him and the nightmare to reset. He’d soon be back at the campfire with the others, healed as if nothing had happened, and he wouldn’t have to see this creep again for a while.

He hoped.

When Dwight regained consciousness, he wasn’t by the campfire. He wasn’t even outside. The cabin was unfamiliar and dimly lit by an orange hue that leaked through the floorboards. It wasn’t unlike the light he’d seen in the basement. However, there weren’t any hooks or an overwhelming stench of gore and mold.

"Where am I?" Dwight hissed as he sat up. The wound in his back hadn’t healed, and based on the stain where he was laying, he was still bleeding, too. "Don’t tell me I’m still in the trial…" He’d been left on a musty love seat, tattered and torn from the decades. The inside of the room was equally as dilapidated. There were holes in the wall, as though someone had tried to break them down. A broken pipe hung from the ceiling, dripping the occasional droplet onto the discolored floor.

“Boo.” The whispered breath against his neck caused Dwight to gasp and turn his head. He gaped at the silhouette in the dark, that was too close for comfort and waited for him to do something. By the looks of it, it was a person, but the only thing he could make out was a smirking jawline.

“Let me go.” Dwight wore a guarded look as he slowly stood from the love seat, taking tentative steps back to keep his distance. He had intended to sound authoritative, demanding even. Still, even to his ears, he seemed scared as he fought back the tears welling in his eyes.

With his only haven denied, Dwight was at a loss. In the years he’d been trapped, there’d always been a pattern in the nightmare. It had rules that made sense in all the unknown. They died, they woke up.

_How did I get here?_

A masked Ghost Face strode around the couch, running his hand along the length of the arm. He could see something in his other hand, though it was too dark to tell.

“You already won,” Dwight said. “What else do you want from me?”

Ghost Face remained silent as he revealed a red medkit, tossing it at Dwight’s feet. Dwight looked between the two of them, brows furrowed, confused. As Dwight snatched up the box, opening it and spilling out its contents, Ghost Face stepped towards him, humming an unfamiliar tune beneath his breath. A pair of bandage scissors caught his eye, but as Ghost Face paused behind him, he didn’t dare to touch them. If he was letting him patch up his wounds, Dwight didn’t think he was going to kill him, but it was too risky. The many times they’d tried to fight back against the killers, it’d always fail. They were practically immortal in the Entity’s world. But seeing the scissors brought him a little comfort. They were there, and he had access to something that, at the very least, hurt him.

Once Dwight had finished, Ghost Face grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked his head back against his waist, hard. Dwight clenched his jaw and groaned from the impact, dropping the roll of bandage tape onto the floor.

“Stop!” Dwight gasped.

Ghost Face hummed to himself, drawing the blade in front of Dwight’s face before carefully dragging it along his jawline and down the front of his throat. Dwight could only sit there, heart pounding against his chest and pray that when he did finally decide to slit his throat that it would be quick.

“You’re a very good boy, Dwight,” Ghost Face whispered.

Dwight swallowed hard, unsure if the phrase made him uncomfortable or disgusted.

“I’m not your dog.”

“Not yet.”

Lifting the knife, Ghost Face shoved Dwight away from him, knocking him onto the floor and into the medical supplies. Before Dwight had time to react, he was headed out of a doorway behind the couch, closing it behind him.

“Wait!” Dwight dashed for the door but heard the click of the lock as he reached it. He rammed his shoulder against the door, but even though it looked old, it was sturdy, and he only managed to hurt himself. Dwight stopped before he reopened his wounds. He needed stitches, he needed real medical attention, and he needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

Dwight looked at the scissors, his way out.


	2. Chapter 2

There isn’t much to do in the tiny cabin room except to explore it, Dwight runs his finger along the inch thick of dust along the floor, considering his next options. Killing himself had ultimately failed, attempting had only left a new scar and more blood in the room. There was no guarantee suicide would send him back anyway, but it was worth the shot.

The wound on his back and throat had already begun to seal themselves thanks to the Medkit. It used to surprise Dwight how quick it would heal him, but now it was almost expected. However, the scars and the pain hung around like an unwanted phantom.

Dwight pocketed the scissors, sighing heavily through his nostrils as he wiped his dusty finger over his pants. There was no telling how long Ghost Face had left him in that room; time was just as much of a mystery as his inability to die. A zombie wouldn’t be too far off from how he felt. One that’d been run over by a Mack truck a few times.

Pacing the room for what felt like a hundred times, and trying the scissors into any lock and crevice in hopes of popping something loose, Dwight eventually gave up and sat back on the love seat. The only progress he’d made with the scissors before they’d snapped in half due to force, was managing to loosen one of the hinges of the door. It didn’t budge much further due to the screws. At least he had a weapon, the sharp pointy end of the blade could at the very least stab Ghost Face if he needed to. The other scissor was too blunt to do anything with, so he’d left it on the floor.

Boredom was beginning to set in now that his fear had wavered. The others were probably looking for him. Maybe they were out in the forest with Jake and Jeff looking for clues.

If the forest weren’t a labyrinth, one that shifted and reformed itself at random, it was somewhat likely they could show up eventually if they were even looking.

Dwight thought he was appreciated within the group, enlisting in leadership with Meg and taking charge when things got hard. Especially for those who recently showed up, like Yui. He hadn’t had much time to talk to her before the next trial had started.

The lock rattled, removing Dwight from his thoughts, and he stood from the couch. Shoving his hand into his pocket to grip handle, he waited with bated breath for Ghost Face to enter. When the door opened, Dwight could smell herbs and spices.

His nose wrinkled, taken aback by the strong aroma he hadn’t been accustomed to anymore. His stomach soon reacted to the scent, gurgling and cramping painfully as Ghost Face walked into the room, a red glass bowl in hand. Neither moved, nor said anything for a while before his captor eventually held the bowl out to him.

Suspicious, Dwight didn’t move.

“What is it?” Dwight asked after a good ten seconds of silence. 

Is he trying to trick me into letting my guard down? He wondered, cautiously reaching for the bowl. Inside was a reddish, orange liquid that looked much like tomato soup, however being in the Entity’s world for so long, his stomach churned at the thought of it being blood.

There were little chunks of something in it, not meat, but a vegetable. Maybe beets? Somehow Dwight didn’t see Ghost Face being a chef, but he also couldn’t remember ever seeing food anywhere. Ghost Face wasn’t the type of person to feed someone out of the goodness of his heart.

“Thank you?” Dwight tried to take the bowl, but Ghost Face didn’t release his grip. 

“Down,” said Ghost Face. 

“What?” 

“Down.” Ghost Face pointed at the floor.

A knot twisted in Dwight’s chest. He wondered about the age of the man behind the mask if he were using juvenile tactics to make him beg for food he didn’t even want. It was something Legion would do for shits and giggles, and Dwight bet he was smirking behind the mask, mocking him, knowing he had Dwight wrapped around his finger.

Dwight knocked the bowl out of his hand. It shattered against the floor, splattering the contents on the couch’s upholstery as well as Ghost Face’s boots. Although his temper had briefly gotten the better of him, Dwight soon regretted his outburst once he remembered his situation.

Instead of lashing out, Ghost Face began to laugh as if it were the funniest thing he’d ever seen. Cold wrapped around the back of Dwight’s head like a vice, prickling his skin and turning his hairs on end as his anxiety grew.

“You got bigger balls than I thought,” Ghost Face said, recomposing himself. He wiped a nonexistence tear from the eye hole of his mask and stood upright. However, almost immediately after, Ghost Face’s demeanor returned to normal. “Get down before I make you.”

Not wanting to push his luck any further, Dwight got on his hands and knees. He adjusted his glasses, which had begun to slip down the ridge of his nose from sweat, and lowered his gaze to the floor, confidence fading.

Get up. Dwight thought.

Ghost Face pushed Dwight’s head down towards the dirty floor, close to his steel-toed boots, which had been splattered by the soup.

“Clean up your mess,” Ghost face said and released his grip.

Dwight wrinkled his nose at the thought of licking the soup off of the floor. There was no telling what was there, not to mention the shards of glass from the broken bowl. Swallowing hard, Dwight decided to lick the soup from his boot instead, trying not to gag at the thought of what he was doing. It was probably cleaner than that floor, though.

The soup was tomato, but after a couple of licks, Dwight could only taste the material of the boots. A pink blush crept across his cheeks, ears burning hot as he dared to look up at Ghost Face. He was simply watching him, wordlessly.

“Why are you doing this?” Dwight summoned the courage to ask.

“You amuse me,” he admitted.

“Don’t you get enough amusement killing us?”

Ghost Face shrugged, motioning for Dwight to get up off the floor and turned away from him. He stopped at the open door, waiting. Standing with uncertainty, Dwight stole a glance at the shattered bowl again before stepping over the mess and following him out into the hall.

“Where are you taking me?” Dwight asked as they walked down the hallway.

Ghost Faced ignored him, opening a door. He stepped to the side and allowed Dwight to walk past him to peek into the room. It looked familiar, pristine, and clean but compact. A peculiar feeling tugged at the back of his head like he’d forgotten something, and his brain was trying hard to recover that information.

When Dwight took too long, Ghost Face pushed him into the room, causing him to stumble a little, but caught himself against the glass shower door.

“Okay, alright,” Dwight said with a pinched, tension-filled expression.

He balled his fists, nails digging into the palm, and reminded himself to keep calm. David would suggest knocking his lights out, and even though David had been teaching the survivors a few moves to kill time, Dwight didn’t think he was capable of doing anything but pissing him off more than he probably already had.

Generally, Dwight wasn’t an angry person; he rarely got mad, but the unnecessary abuse Ghost Face was putting him through was just that. It was pointless torture. Whether it be for his amusement or not, there was no sense in it.

Dwight took a deep breath and tried to relax, glancing around the room now that he had more than a second to take in the surroundings. It was almost like he was back in his apartment; the layout felt similar, even the shower curtain. When Dwight noticed the window just above the toilet, small enough to fit through, glass slightly cracked near the bottom left, it confirmed it.

He recognized the window, the tile, even the stains on the mirror. He hadn’t seen it for so long that he’d almost forgotten until he saw the window.

It had happened the night before the Entity took him when Dwight had been drinking a little too much. Work had been stressful, but he’d gotten past the point of tipsy and stumbled into the bathroom, falling into the sink. He had almost shoved his fist through the glass catching himself from the fall but only managed to cut up his knuckles from the impact.

“Now that I have your attention,” Ghost Face said as if he hadn’t already. “I’m going to require a little help from you.”

“Help?” Dwight’s eyebrows squished together, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes flicked back to take another look at that window.

“Just a little game, nothing too difficult.” Ghost Face moved behind Dwight. He placed his hands on Dwight’s tense shoulders and leaned in, speaking lower. “All I need is a life exchange. And you’re free.”

Ghost Face’s hand trail down his back and around his waist, stopping just above the pocket, which held the scissor before promptly removing it from his waist. Dwight swallowed hard. A dozen questions danced around his head so fast that he couldn’t decide which one to ask first. 

Ghost Face stepped away from him, prompting Dwight to speak before it was too late.

“Wait,” Dwight said, stumbling on his words as he continued. “What are you asking me to do? And what if I don’t want to play this game of yours?”

Ghost Face shook his head, snorting as he laughed. “Now what gave you the idea you had a choice? Hurry up.”

“You didn’t answer my other question…”

“Hurry up.” He repeated as he left. “Food’s getting cold.” Ghost Face locked the door behind him, and Dwight could hear his boots moving away from the room.

Dwight sighed heavily, more confused now than he’d been earlier. He eventually stepped up to the mirror above the sink, examining his reflection he hadn’t seen in years. Dwight barely recognized himself covered in dirt, grime, and dried blood. Not a day older, but he knew he’d been there for a least two to three years.

Dwight stepped away from the sink, not wanting to look at his disheveled appearance any longer, and started the shower. When the hot water hit his skin, he fought back a moan. It eased the tension in his body, but the dread in the pit of his stomach remained.

Dwight opened the bottle of body wash and inhaled the scent of Irish Spring. It was familiar, comforting, and real. Tears welled in his eyes, the memories of everything he’d left behind flooded back, drowning him emotionally.

He wanted to go home, and whatever Ghost Face had planned, perhaps that was his only chance at it.


	3. Chapter 3

There isn't anything initially wrong when Dwight steps outside the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. His clothes were beyond repair, stained and torn so much that it was a mystery it'd once been clean. If it were his apartment he was in, his bedroom would be the next place he'd go. Except it wasn't there.

Like Dwight had suspected, the bathroom was a figment of the Entity's imagination. Maybe it pulled it from his memories to give him a false sense of security. Still, it brought a little comfort, and cleanliness was a luxury he'd missed severely.

Ghost Face was in the hallway, digging through a table drawer. Dwight considered sneaking off in the opposite direction before he noticed him, but his head jerked in Dwight's direction. Ghost Face paused his search, staring at Dwight as he approached, and he stood upright, closing the drawer. Opening a manila folder, Ghost Face ignored Dwight's existence again an scanned the documents inside.

"Um, can I ask you something?" Dwight said, running his fingers through his recently conditioned hair.

"Shoot."

"If I cooperate, will you stop hurting me?"

Ghost Face scoffed. Guess that was a no, or perhaps at a minimum, it could be a maybe. Dwight stepped closer, trying to get a look at the sheets of paper inside the file. They appeared to be newspapers. Ghost Face closed it before he could get a good look, but he had caught something about a murder.

"Okay, well, do you know where I can get some clothes then?" He tried to feign confidence in front of his captor, Ghost Face did need his help after all, so that meant he needed him. Ghost Face appeared agitated by the question, but walked down the hallway, trailing something along the walls that Dwight couldn't see with his hand. He stopped by a door, opening it and walking in before Dwight had a chance to go first.

The bedroom looked the same as when he'd left it, minus the T.V show he'd left on because all it was playing now was static. Satellite probably wasn't something the Entity considered necessary for the survivors.

Dwight went to his closet, opening the door and began looking through the few clothes still on the hangers and drawers. The rest of his clothes had been discarded in the corner of the room, forgotten. He remembered planning to do the laundry before his boss invited him out to the woods the night the Entity took him. Dwight could almost taste the pumpkin spice moonshine on his tongue as he thought back to that night. It hadn't been worth the trouble, but he hadn't wanted to be rude after the promotion.

Ghost Face had followed him into the room, but he hadn't said a word, keeping his distance as he meandered around, inspecting his belongings. Dwight wouldn't put it past him to be a thief, too. However, it didn't matter much, considering none of this was even real. Dwight dropped the towel, pulling on a pair of underwear while he wasn't looking.

Dwight could feel Ghost Face's eyes on him as he reached for a pair of jeans. It made him uncomfortable, and he wondered if Ghost Face had noticed him slip the scissor into the pocket of a pair of jeans. He'd wrapped it in the towel around his waist, pretending to be holding it closed, not to cause suspicion. 

As he slipped them on, Dwight tried to ignore his existence. It wasn't unlike the locker room in high-school, but the guys never blatantly stared him down like a predator ready to tear him apart. At least their jeering was less awkward than being watched so intently. What was he afraid he was going to do, attack him with the plastic coat hanger?

Ghost Face took a seat on the edge of the unmade bed, thrumming his fingers against the dark plaid sheets as Dwight pulled on a T-shirt and comfortable zip-up hoodie. It was nice to wear something casual and clean for a change. He finally felt human again and less like a sack of meat to knock around.

Ghost Face was a human, too, wasn't he? And the other killers. So they had names, personalities, and lives before whatever got them involved with the Entity. Dwight wondered if he used to be a decent person before, or if he was always twisted.

"So," Dwight started, uncertain once he finished getting dressed. "Is there a name I can call?"

Ghost Face stopped thrumming, tilting his head. Dwight didn't think he was going to get an answer, but as Ghost Face raised from the bed and moved closer to him, he said, "It's Danny Johnson."

It was easier than he'd expected; maybe it hadn't been a secret, and all he had to do was ask all along. Still, Dwight didn't miss the playful tone he had when he'd said it, nor the way his head dipped like he was sizing him up—threatening him to keep his mouth shut about his identity. That's how it appeared to him, anyway.

"I'm Dwight," he said, taking a step away from Danny, who followed him until Dwight bumped into the dresser inside the closet. Dwight had hoped that by telling him his name that it would make Danny realize that he was a person just like him.

"I know." Danny stopped a few inches away from him, turning his head to look behind him as though he'd heard something. He looked around the room before returning his attention back to Dwight. "There's not much time. I'll open another door, but we need to go." He sounded anxious, and if someone like Danny was worried about something, Dwight didn't want to know what it was.

After filling his stomach with the same soup from earlier, minus the taste of boot, Dwight was taken down a stairwell. He followed behind Danny, hand on the railing as he peered over it to see nothing but a bottomless pit below. Danny hadn't said where they were going, and after being ignored twice, Dwight dropped it.

It was dark, quiet, yet there was an echo in the distance of water dripping somewhere further below. It occurred to Dwight that Danny might be taking him to meet the Entity. After all, what else would live in that kind of abyss except some kind of old God survived on suffering?

But why go through all the trouble of cleaning him up, feeding him and giving him a chance if he were just going to toss him into the maw of the beast. Dwight also hadn't seen any more orange veins stretching along the walls or floors. He tried not to get his hopes up about what that meant, whatever Danny had in mind couldn't be for his benefit, and the longer he kept that in mind, the safer he'd be in the long run.

"Have you ever killed anyone before, Dwight?" Danny asked abruptly, pausing and turning to face him.

Dwight hesitated, lips slightly parted as he tried to register the question he'd just asked. Of course not, he'd never killed anyone before; the thought had never crossed his mind until he had to fight tooth and nail to survive every night. He'd been angry in life, at the people who hurt and pushed him around, but he'd never considered killing them.

"It's easy," Danny continued.

"I'm not killing anyone!" Dwight snapped once the realization of where he was going with the conversation occurred to him.

"Relax," he chuckled. "We're here."

He was in the middle of a street in a cul de sac surrounded by mobile homes of different colors. One painted tan and bright blue stuck out like a sore thumb. He didn't recognize it, or the street they were on. Nothing looked like it had in the Entity's world, which made Dwight wonder if he was back in the real world. That or the Entity had done a bang-up job replicating a location realistically for once.

"Why are we here?" Dwight asked, rubbing the chill from his arms. It was the middle of the night, and he couldn't think of any good reason they were there. Especially not after that question.

"You're going to be a hero tonight, Dwight."

Danny had left him alone in the darkness by the entrance of the cul de sac. The thought of high tailing it down the road was more than a little tempting; however, what Danny had said was bothering him. He wondered if he went to kill someone in one of the houses; the thought alone made his stomach churn, but it wouldn't be something Danny hadn't done a hundred times already. Still, if this was the real world, then there was no reset button, and someone was in grave danger. Dwight didn't want to take that risk, and he never was good at gambling.

Minutes went by without any sign or sound of Danny or danger. He bet some old lady was peeking through her blinds and wondering why this hooded college student was loitering by a stop sign in the middle of the night. Maybe the cops would come long before Danny could do whatever it was he was going to do to his next victim, and he could stop whatever he had planned from happening.

Dwight realized that wasn't going to happen when he saw smoke beginning to rise from the tan and blue mobile home. His heart sank, and he momentarily froze in place before the instincts he'd picked up in the trials kicked in. He sprinted for the home, banging on the door as hard as he could and screaming for anyone who was in there to hear him and wake up.

"Fire! There's a fire you need to get out!"

The blaze was growing, but no one had come to the door. Dwight looked around frantically for something to break in before finding an angel shaped lawn ornament and smashed it against the window of the door. It took a couple of hits for the glass to shatter, and he tossed the ornament aside, reaching his arm in through the hole to unbolt and unlock the door. Dwight hissed, drawing his hand back fast when it touched the already heated metal and cutting open his arm. He gritted his teeth and tried to push through the pain as he used his hoodie sleeve to grab hold, making the heat bearable enough to get it unlocked.

Pushing inside, Dwight began to cough. The fire had spread quickly along the walls of the mobile home and ignited everything in its path.

"Hey!" Dwight yelled through coughing fits, advancing back towards where the bedrooms should be if his childhood memory had served him well. The door was open, and he could see an older man on the floor, there was blood. Dwight rushed to his side, and with no time to check for the wound, he pulled the man's arm over his shoulder. Thankfully the man was conscious and helped him with the burden as they made for the exit.

Soot and fire curtained everything, and the air was thick with black smoke as he tried not to lose his grip on the man or his balance. The fire had engulfed most of the building, including the front door he'd come through. Someone had closed the door, and he knew Danny was responsible.

Dwight looked for another exit before remembering there was always a back door near the kitchen when he was a kid. Nearing the back door, Dwight hoped that he'd hear sirens at any minute, that one of the neighbors had heard the commotion and called the fire department.

The man was coughing, muttering something as he tried to adjust his weight and reached for the knob. Dwight grabbed his wrist but didn't bother to tell him not to before grabbing his hoodie through the pocket and using it as a shield. It was going to hurt no matter what, but he wrapped it up as much as he could to grab the knob and twist as fast as he could. It still hurt, a lot, and Dwight attempted to ignore the pain the best he could.

The fresh, cold air was a blessing, but the lack of stairs was yet another obstacle. It wasn't a long drop, but it was going to hurt if the man landed wrong, especially with the injury.

Without saying anything, the man seemed to understand what he was doing and moved closer to the door. He didn't bother to take his time, lunging out the door, catching himself on his right side as he hit the grass. Dwight jumped down, careful not to land on him, and helped the man to his feet and over to the sidewalk, both gasping and choking for air once they were safe.

"You-" Dwight coughed several more times, catching his breath before continuing. He felt dizzy, his eyes burned, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes and go to sleep, but he fought it. "Are you okay?"

The man nodded and kept his hand pressed firmly against his abdomen. Recognizing it was the injury, Dwight applied his own hands to add pressure and allowed the man to take it easy. Their clothes were black with soot, so much for clean clothes, but he had just saved a man's life for real.

His ears perked to the sound of sirens blaring in the distance, encroaching quickly into the trailer park and turning onto their street. His heart soared when he saw the lights, thankful that rescue had finally come. Perhaps for him, too.


	4. Chapter 4

"He said his name was Danny Johnson," Dwight said from a bench in the hallway of the hospital. He'd told the police everything he knew about that night, at least up until a point. A man dressed in a Halloween costume talked to him before eventually setting fire to the house. Dwight doubted the officers would believe the whole truth. What reasonable person would?

Dwight held a lukewarm paper cup of water in his left hand, it felt like heaven going down his throat, although he could still taste and smell smoke.

He'd suffered light injuries on his right hand and forearm had first, and second-degree burns, as well as a vertical gash in his forearm from the glass. The hospital staff had been generous enough to treat him even though he didn't have any identification or insurance. However, he had given the police his name. Still, the amnesia during the trials had prevented him from recalling much more than that. He couldn't remember what state or city he was from, his parents, or any of his friends. Once they found out he was a missing person, he hoped they'd contact someone who was looking for him, and eventually, he could go home.

The man, whose name was Nathan Palmer, hadn't been as lucky as Dwight had. He'd had burns on his legs and back, as well as multiple stab wounds in his abdomen. There hadn't been any updates yet, but Dwight didn't plan on leaving the hospital until there was. He wasn't safe as long as Danny was out there, and he had to warn him.

When the officer left him, Dwight breathed a sigh of relief. She'd put him on edge, the way she looked at him like some suspect. He knew how it looked.

He wondered what he would do once everything settled down. Once things were back to normal. Danny wasn't around to threaten him, and there wasn't anything to stop him.

"Hey, hero," A man said, disrupting him from his thoughts. He looked to be in his mid to late thirties, short brunette hair, and a five o'clock shadow. "Name's Jed Olsen. I'm a journalist for the Roseville Gazette."

Extending his hand to shake Dwight's, Jed paused when he noticed the bandaged arm, but his smile never wavered. An unusual display after being surrounded by doom and gloom for years, but certainly not unwelcome as it put him at ease. Yet, Dwight didn't know if he was up for more conversation. He'd finished giving his report to multiple people already, and his voice was threatening to give out.

"Hey," Dwight said, clearing his throat and shaking Jed's hand.

"Sounds like you had a rough night." Jed retrieved a sleek white business card from his gray pinstripe trousers. "But, I'd appreciate it if you gave me a call when you get the chance. That man you saved is Nathan Palmer; he's an old coworker of mine."

Dwight nodded, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere. To the beeping in the distance, the flickering light above him, and the shuffle of staff walking the halls. Anything but the words coming out of his mouth. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, and Dwight thought the room had begun to spin as he looked up.

"Do you know where a payphone is?" Dwight asked, cutting the man off from whatever he'd been in the middle of saying although he'd said it so quiet that the man didn't appear to understand what he'd asked. "A payphone," Dwight said a bit louder this time. "I need to call someone."

"Oh, yeah. I think I saw one downstairs on the way up. If not, there's one in the diner across the street."

"Thanks."

Dwight stood from the bench and headed for the elevator, but Jed followed behind. Dwight tried to ignore him as he pressed the elevator button, keeping his eyes on the number above the doors until they opened. The reporter followed him in and leaned against the opposite wall, calm as Dwight pressed the button for the ground floor.

'He's not following you.' Dwight tried to tell himself, but as they watched each other from across the small space, he became more unsure of the man's intentions.

"You should let me buy you something to eat," Jed said.

Dwight's mouth watered at the thought of a freshly cooked meal. He agreed before his brain had a chance to protest, siding with his stomach on this one.

The scent of sizzling burgers and apple pie filled the air, greeting them at the door with a cozy and warm invitation as a jukebox played Conway Twitty's 'hello darlin' in the back. Dwight nearly collapsed to his knees then and there to kiss the floor, but restrained himself and followed Jed Olsen to a red leather booth. Neither saying much to one another until the food arrived.

By the time the waitress set the food down in front of him, Dwight was grinning ear to ear. The first bite sent his taste buds into a frenzy, and Dwight had to resist making any embarrassing noises in public. Jed was less enthused with a cup of black coffee and a tape recorder placed between them, and he flipped through a pocket notebook until he found a specific page.

"When was the last time you ate?" Jed sipped his coffee, setting his notebook on the table, but didn't take his eyes off of it, scanning his notes.

"Earlier." Dwight's cheeks felt hot, realizing he must have looked ridiculous, shoveling food into his face like a wild animal.

Jed didn't push the topic further; instead, he watched as Dwight scarfed down every last scrap. Dwight knew he was going to regret eating so much after living on an empty stomach for so long. Still, once the plate was empty, he had to resist the urge to lick it clean and order a round of seconds, reminding himself that he wasn't the one paying for it.

"Full?" Jed asked, smiling. His elbows rested against the table, and he fiddled with his pen between two fingers, observing Dwight.

"Yeah, thanks again."

"Good. So, let's get down to business." Jed set back in his seat, a seriousness in his tone that put Dwight on edge. He'd known it was coming after Jed had told him to get whatever he wanted. Of course, he'd want something in return. But why had it gotten so quiet all of a sudden? The clatter of the dishes in the kitchen and even the jukebox had stopped. It felt to him that time had stopped.

Jed said nothing, folding his hands over one another one the table, staring at him. He was relaxed, still wearing that smile as though someone pinned it, tailoring it to suit his face.

Something scraped against the window, and Dwight lunged from his seat. Sharp, spider-like appendages slid across the windows before dipping back into the darkness.

"Something wrong, kid?" Jed asked.

"Don't let him take me back."

Dwight awoke to the gentle beeping of the machine next to his hospital bed. The room was dark, aside from the lights from the hallway and the glow of the machine monitors. Movement on his right side drew his attention towards the window, and Dwight's heart skipped a beat when he saw them. Dwight almost darted from his bed, but Jed pressed his hands against Dwight's shoulders, urging him to relax.

"Hey, hey, it's alright!"

Dwight ignored him, eyes darting around the room as he panted heavily. He searched for any sign of Ghost Face, the Entity, the other survivors, anything that meant he was back in that hell.

Nothing. Dwight didn't see anything except Jed sitting on the edge of the bed in front of him. He looked concerned as he cautiously released his grip.

"Why are you here?" Dwight asked once he recomposed himself.

"I thought you'd like to see a friendly face when you woke up. How's your head, by the way?"

"My head?" Dwight touched his head, wincing when he felt the back of it.

"The nurse said you stood up too quick or something."

"So we never left?" He frowned Jed shook his head. 

Dwight lowered his head into his hands. There was no telling what inhaling the smoke had done to his head, or what kind of chemicals they used in the walls of those mobile homes. But that hadn't felt like a dream; it'd felt like something was tugging at his very soul, trying to drag him back.

Dwight laid his head back against the pillow and sighed, resting his arm against his forehead.

' I'm not crazy.' He thought although Dwight wasn't so sure if that was true. 

"Hey. Things are going to work out," Jed said, reassuringly, resting his hand on Dwight's knee. "Promise."


	5. Chapter 5

Jed Olsen knew more than he was letting on, but Dwight kept his questions to himself as he sat in his hospital bed and replayed the events through his head, trying to make sense of them. He hadn't been able to sleep any more; the presence of the Entity felt all too real. Still, Jed had kept him company enough, and even brought him food from the diner as he comforted his anxiety.

Thankfully, the nightmare hadn't tainted how delicious his first meal had been, but it did leave a sour taste in his mouth after. He couldn't stop thinking about the Entity, the appendages, about Danny, and how he ended up where he was. It didn't make any sense to Dwight. He remembered being impaled by the Entity in front of the gate. But when he awoke, there was no wound through his abdomen, and he wasn't at the bonfire. It hurt his brain, trying to understand what was happening in a place of impossibilities.

Dwight looked at Jed, who was browsing through a cell phone, distracted by what he was reading. Whatever reason Jed had for staying, information or not, Dwight had to admit he was grateful. He wasn't used to being alone anymore, and he didn't want to be.

"Hey." Jed looked up from his phone, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. "I need to tell you something. And you might not believe me."

Against his better judgment, Dwight told him everything. Jed listened attentively but gave no input as though it didn't surprise him one bit. Maybe he already knew. Perhaps it was common knowledge, and it was something Dwight hadn't been aware of until recently. No, that wasn't true. It would be all over the media and online forums if something like an alternate hell dimension existed.

When Dwight mentioned the Entity, and how he'd seen it in his dreams, Jed exhaled through his nostrils and moved to sit beside him. Dwight hadn't realized how upset he'd become talking about his experience, or how angry Jed was becoming. Still, Jed didn't stop him. Dwight didn't blame him, they barely knew each other, and he didn't owe him anything. It felt good to tell someone and to get everything off of his chest. Even if he couldn't relate, Dwight could still see the fire in Jed's eyes as he told him about what some of the killers did. The cruel and heartless ways they'd murder them for what seemed to be no reason other than sport.

"I know, It sounds crazy," Dwight said, wiping the tears that had welled in his eyes. He refused to cry in front of anyone, but he couldn't stop his hands from shaking uncontrollably.

"No," Jed said quietly. "I believe you."

"You do?" Dwight breathed a sigh of relief as the weight on his shoulders lifted. Even if Dwight felt guilty for dragging him into his problems, the man had decided to stick around. Regardless of how crazy things were bound to become, or how stupid Dwight appeared for believing in nightmares.

There was a silence that followed when Dwight had finished. Neither saying anything as Jed seemed to absorb the information relayed to him. However, Dwight noticed that Jed was observing him with a strange look in his eyes. A predatory, animalistic look that made him nervous.

"Are you alright?" Dwight asked, furrowing his brows.

Within a split second, Jed's hands were wrapped around Dwight's throat, pinning him to the mattress. Dwight gasped, gripping at his wrists and straining to pull them apart in an attempt to remove them, to no avail. Jed wasn't squeezing hard enough to choke him, but it made breathing difficult, and he could already see specks of light in his vision.

"Jed…" Dwight rasped, closing his eyes tight when pressure had begun to build behind them, threatening to pop.

"She knows we're here," Jed said before kissing him briefly, then releasing his grip.

Coughing, Dwight turned his head and pushed against Jed's shoulders. It was like trying to shove a wall out of place, a wall that pushed back.

"You're trembling," Jed said. "Relax. It'll be over soon."

As Jed went to reach into his pocket, Dwight punched him. Hard in the side of the head. Jed must not have expected him to fight back because he took the full hit without so much as trying to block it. When he saw the opportunity, Dwight shoved him away and seized the closest thing he could find as a weapon — a fountain pen Jed had left on top of his notebook in the chair.

"Stay back!" Dwight said.

Jed, no, Danny, reached into his boot beneath his jeans and retrieved his tactical knife. The only thing between the two of them was the hospital bed. With his back pressed against the window sill behind him, Dwight didn't take his eyes off of Danny as he began to step around the bed, smirking.

"Don't come any closer!" Dwight warned, his pulse racing as he gripped the pen so hard his knuckles turned white. He couldn't keep the pen steady as Danny stopped at the foot of the bed. Images of the cruel things Danny had done to him and the others flashed through his head, and he felt a rock-forming in his stomach. Everything had happened too fast, and it was too much. He felt dizzy, but he had to stay focused.

The light above flickered on and off as the two watched each other. Dwight knew full well that Jed was toying with him on purpose, but that didn't make him any less afraid. When the lights began to flick faster, Dwight noticed it became brighter before inevitably blowing with a loud pop. The hairs on his arms and neck stood on end, and he listened for the sound of movement, rooted to that spot as he held his breath in anticipation for an attack.

The room illuminated, charged with static electricity, and his body locked up. Dwight screamed. His knees gave out, and he collapsed to the floor, dropping the pen. Dwight heaved, sucking in any air his lungs would allow, painful as it were. He staggered and pulled himself to his feet using the window sill for balance as the light flickered on again.

The room was dilapidated, empty, familiar. Danny was gone, but Dwight knew he had to be close. The Doctor was crueler than any of the other killers, and if that was him, Dwight knew things were about to get worse. He wondered if even the other killers were terrified of him.

He was definitely in Lery's. Dwight could tell by the randomized placement of three separate hospital beds on each side of the room, a yellow and brown chest on the right, and the all too familiar generator nestled between one of the beds and a bedside table. His heart collapsed, popped like a pricked balloon. But he knew he couldn't just stand there, so he convinced himself to check the chest for anything useful.

There was no doubt in his mind when he opened the chest and seen the toolbox inside, that he was back in that infernal nightmare. It wasn't a coincidence, and that meant the Doctor knew where he was and was likely on his way towards him that very instant. He couldn't stick around, slipping into the hall and then the shower room across from it. Business as usual, Dwight knew he needed to keep his head in the game and find a generator. There was no telling what would happen upon completing the trial, and it made him sick to think he'd end up right back at the bonfire as if none of the events that occurred had happened.

Dwight set down his toolbox once he stopped by the generator, which was sticking out of the shower stall. It was a solo generator, but he wondered if the others were there, too, somewhere. Flipping open the panel, Dwight heard a scream in the distance. Kate, he'd listened to his friends' shrieks enough to memorize them, and that was her.

"Dammit." Dwight bit the inside of his cheek and glared at the machine in front of him.

When he finished the generator, Kate screamed again, this time much louder and drawn out as the Doctor must have hooked her. The Entity would be there soon if he didn't get to her. Dwight made his way towards Kate, even though his brain told him to go in the opposite direction. At least he tried until another bolt of electricity ripped through his body, and he cried out, collapsing to his knees from the pain.

"Get up!" Danny said, snatching his wrist tight. "You've got work to do."

Dwight didn't resist when he helped him to his feet, but once he'd recomposed himself, he pulled away and shot him a dirty look. Danny didn't seem bothered, but it was difficult to tell what he was feeling with the mask back on his head. There wasn't enough time to deal with him, but Danny persisted, stepping in front of him when he tried to leave.

"Listen to me," Danny snapped, placing a heavy hand on his chest. "Before she realizes I'm here."

"Just leave me alone already!"

The Doctor's laughter reverberated off the old walls as electricity slid along the floor in his wake. Distracted by his sudden arrival, Dwight was able to shove past Danny and run. He wasn't running for Kate anymore; he couldn't lead the Doctor right back to her. Whatever Danny wanted, he didn't care at the moment, and the last thing he wanted was to trust him again.

The layout of Lery's hadn't changed, he knew the shortcuts and rooms like the back of his hand, but that didn't stop the Doctor from being hot on his tail. It was his hospital, after all, and by the time Dwight doubled back and went into the treatment room, he felt the electrified baton strike against his back. He screamed, stumbled, and tossed over a cart to block the Doctor from chasing him. It bought him a little time as Dwight headed through the hall and into a waiting room where a pair of lockers stood next to each other. He chose the closest one, quietly stepping inside and attempted to get his breathing under control. He covered his mouth so as not to make a sound as the heavy footsteps encroached upon him.

With bated breath, he listened, anticipating that at any moment, the Doctor would come into the room and know where he was. It was difficult not to cry out from the pain, and he knew his back had been sliced open by the spikes of the Doctor's weapon.

When the Ghost Face's mask appeared between the slots of the locker door, his heart skipped. Danny stared him down, and Dwight could imagine he was glaring, or perhaps smirking with anticipation.

"Now that I have your attention," Danny said. "I'm trying to help you. So cooperate."

Dwight could've scoffed if he weren't so terrified, the thought of him of all people trying to help anyone was enough to make him laugh. When Danny opened the locker, Dwight stood still, frozen and gaped at him, hands again clasped over his mouth. The Doctor's laugh echoed in the halls, he was too close for comfort, and if he used his electrotherapy, Dwight didn't have the locker sealed to absorb the shock. He didn't know how it worked, being a metal locker, but it did, and he was vulnerable to the attack.

"Hold still," Danny said, retrieving something from the inside pocket of his costume. Dwight couldn't tell what it was, only that it glowed an intense orange, he was more focused on the doorway behind him, waiting for the Doctor's disfigured face to appear.

With one foot in the locker and his knees between Dwight's thighs, Danny snatched Dwight by the hair and forced his head to the side. Dwight felt the sharp prick of a needle in his neck, he tensed and inhaled sharply through his teeth, pressing his back against the locker, knocking down one of the axes.

"Good boy," Danny whispered, releasing his grip. "You made that more difficult than it needed to be."

Dwight lowered his hands. "Fuck, y-you."

Danny chuckled, running his hand down the side of Dwight's face, pausing to cup his cheek. Confused, Dwight merely watched him back, hoping that the man would back away soon and didn't remove his mask and try to kiss him again.

Behind Danny, Dwight could see the Doctor watching them from the doorway. When Danny realized they weren't alone, he stepped away from the locker and motioned his hand towards Dwight.

"All yours, Doc."

"What? No, wait!" Dwight held out his hands as if it would somehow save him. The Doctor approached the locker, seizing him by the throat, and pulled him out.

The Doctor's laugh pierced his eardrums, and electricity prickled at his skin as he tossed him over his shoulder. It knocked the air out of him when his abdomen hit his shoulder. Even though struggling rarely did any good, Dwight tried anyway, beating against the walking wall's back. Most of the killers were tanks, and the Doctor merely ignored his attempts to get free, carrying him into the hallway towards a hook. Danny watched from the doorway, waving before he slipped back into the room just before Dwight felt the hook pierce his shoulder. He cried out and whimpered when the Doctor let go, and his body weighed him down on the rusty steel hook.

When the Doctor left, Dwight began to sob, overwhelmed with distress and pain as the hook threatened to rip through his shoulder. The mark on his neck throbbed, burning as if Danny had injected molten lava into his body. Dwight hated them. He hated every last one of them and wished he could repeat that night in the forest. He couldn't remember what he'd done, but the rage, the pain, the frustration it was all so familiar.

"Dwight!" It was Kate, running to the hook with Nathan Palmer on her heel. Dwight gawked at the two of them in disbelief. Nathan got him off of the hook, while Kate popped open the medkit she'd been carrying around. "Where in the world have you been? Everyone's worried!"

Nathan and Dwight shared a look as he lowered him to the ground, careful not to hurt him worse as he helped Kate to patch up the wound with the bandages. Dwight inhaled sharply as neither were gentle in their haste to get him recovered. Nathan was also injured, but not from the fire or Danny. The wound was on his head, and likely the Doctor's doing.

"Thank you," Dwight said. "I'll explain later."

Electricity rolled beneath their feet, and all three screamed. In silent agreement, they knew it was time to go, even if they were still injured. Dwight ended up running with Nathan as Kate jumped through a window and into another room; however, the Doctor didn't follow her, choosing to chase them down instead.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Nathan asked, trying to keep up with Dwight.

There wasn't any time to explain it to the man as the Doctor laughed, sending out another shock beneath their feet. Nathan screamed, stopped in place just long enough for the Doctor to hit him with the weapon. Nathan fell, groaning as the Doctor reached down to lift him from the floor.

Skidding to a halt, Dwight turned to see the Doctor was carrying him to the same hook he'd been on recently. Not knowing if Kate was nearby, or whomever else were in the trial, Dwight maneuvered through the rooms and hid, waiting for the Doctor to leave so he could help him.

Dwight wondered if it were the first time he'd ever been on the hook, or if he were a veteran, too that had been toyed and fucked over with by Danny. Who exactly was Nathan, and why did Danny involve him? It wasn't the time to be thinking about it.

The Doctor stood just in front of the hook before he stopped and dropped Nathan to the floor. The Doctor kneeled, flipping him over as electricity wrapped around his hands. Something inside Dwight snapped, and without thinking it through, he sprang from the room.

"Stop!"

He did. The Doctor canceled what they'd learned was called a mori. The Entity permitted them to kill any of survivors in brutal, sadistic ways, making their damnable fate that much worse. Dwight wasn't going to let Nathan be subjected to that kind of torture, not during his first trial. But that did mean that the Doctor had already hooked Nathan once before. Introduced to the pain he'd soon endure frequently.

When the Doctor retrieved his weapon and turned towards Dwight, he ran, glancing over his shoulder to be sure that the Doctor was following him. He was.

As Dwight approached a window, the Doctor shocked him, causing him to falter and receive the same fatal blow as Nathan had before. Dwight collapsed, but tried to crawl away, dragging himself along the floor. It was like Deja vu as the Doctor turned him onto his back and straddled his hips for what had to be the hundredth time since he'd arrived in the nightmare.

Electricity engulfed his hands, and what followed was pain so unbearable that Dwight's mind couldn't cope. He couldn't scream, seizing as the Doctor clasped his head in place and snuffed out his life.

The last thing Dwight recalled was the smell of burnt flesh and the sound of laughter.


	6. Chapter 6

The ceiling of Dwight's bedroom glowed with stars from the previous tenant's child. He recognized them when he opened his eyes, blue, purple, yellow. Then there was Danny staring down at him, maskless, five o'clock shadow and bags under his eyes.

Dwight tried to speak but found he couldn't say anything. Even though he wanted to scream and shove him away desperately. He couldn't move, but he could breathe. He was alive. However, the mere thought of being paralyzed sent his heart into overdrive.

Danny put the handle of his knife into Dwight's mouth, and Dwight felt his jaw involuntarily clamping down, hard. Danny was saying something, but Dwight couldn't hear him over the Doctor's intrusive whispers, and the clusters of electricity swirling around inside his head.

He couldn't recall losing consciousness, but when he opened his eyes again, Danny was holding him. Close and tight to his chest, sitting on the floor. He couldn't tell if it was his or Danny's heart that was beating so fast, but when he grabbed hold of his leather coat, Dwight was thankful he could move again. His mind was almost silent, leaving behind a throbbing migraine.

"What happened?" Dwight asked, testing his vocal cords. It hurt to talk, not in his throat, but his chest. It felt as if every breath was threatening to snap his ribs in half like a fragile piece of wood. The pressure was so tight that he didn't want to move away from Danny, even though he wasn't particularly fond of the closeness, or the smell of his cheap cologne.

"You had a seizure," he said. "Does that always happen?"

"No."

Dwight couldn't remember ever having side effects after a trial. Not physical, anyway. The only time he had was when Danny brought him to wherever it was that they were. He doubted that Danny wasn't asking because he cared, anyway. He had deliberately delivered him to the Doctor like a free box of candy. The only thing missing was the bow.

They sat there a few more minutes before Danny released his hold on him. Dwight hadn't realized he'd begin to dose off until the killer shifted, and his ribs cried out in distress. He moaned, gripping at his abdomen and laid back on the floor.

"What did he do?" Dwight asked, gritting his teeth from the pain. The Doctor was as sadistic as they came; there was no doubt in Dwight's mind that only killing his victims was enough to satiate the Doctor's blood lust.

"You stopped breathing," Danny said. "so I gave you CPR. I might have broken a few ribs. But, hey, you're alive, aren't you?"

Dwight studied him with questionable doubt. "Why save me if I'll come back?"

"We're in the void. Nothing comes back here. Not really. Nothing natural, anyway." Danny said. He sounded anxious. Danny stood and wandered to the other side of Dwight's bedroom, inspecting random belongings as if to distract himself from the conversation they'd been having. "I replicated your room the best I could from the pictures I have. It was the least I could do."

The least he could do? It wasn't the least Danny could do after all the hell he and the others put him through. It infuriated him that he considered this payment for anything. They'd ruined their lives; this was but a drop of what they owed him. But Dwight couldn't summon the courage to correct him, and he wasn't in any condition to start a confrontation. He wasn't very good at ending them anyway. And Danny had admitted to saving his life. Just that alone, Dwight felt he should give him the benefit of the doubt and try to hear his side of things. Not that he wanted to. Not at all. But he was in no condition, or position, to be picky.

"We don't have much time. The Entity is going to realize we're here," Danny said. "I want to explain everything to you, but I can't. Not when she can hear me."

"She. Who is the Entity?" Dwight sat against the wall, watching as Danny pilfered through his desk drawer. It didn't appear as if he were looking for anything, rather being nosy instead.

"I don't know. But, we have to hurt you— Entity's orders. I don't like following anyone's rules but my own. I'll kill who I want when I want. So, I need you to trust me. I'm on your side."

Dwight thought he would have laughed at a request like that, but it made him nauseous instead. Trust Danny—the man who got off on stabbing people for sport. The only thing Dwight saw standing in front of him was a trap. Another trap waiting to be set off the moment he let his guard down. Too many times he'd believed people and got burned for his kindness. Fire doesn't turn into water. And a killer can't be trusted.

"With what?" Dwight asked, deciding he'd at least hear him out.

"Take the shots and medicine I provide you."

Dwight touched the side of his neck. "What did you give me?"

"A bastardized version of the putrid serum. Didn't ask what it was, but the alchemist said it could temporarily trick the Entity into thinking you were one of us. Speaking of which." Danny reached into his coat to retrieve a small vial. "Bottoms up. You'll mutate otherwise. Can't have that now, can we?"

"Are you serious?" Dwight whispered in disbelief as he cautiously reached for the vial. He found it unusual Danny had withheld that information from before. Why torture him, mess with his head and play with him like a yo-yo if he was trying to recruit him for something. "Why did you try to kill me if you want to help?"

"The Entity doesn't give us a choice. She'll…" He trailed off and looked behind him at the wall, then up to the ceiling. There was nothing there that Dwight could see; however, Danny appeared on edge. He was moving closer to Dwight now as he removed the lid of the vial. He said nothing as he held the glass tube to Dwight's lips, urging him on with his eyes.

"Why are you helping me? Why not the other survivors?"

"I'm not helping you," Danny snapped. Dwight flinched. He hadn't intended to provoke him by suggesting that, but what else was he supposed to think? He still hadn't explained what they were even doing.

Dwight hesitated but drank the reddish-purple medicine. If what Danny was saying were true, then Dwight didn't want to take the chance of mutating into something horrific. Perhaps that's what happened to the Hag. Or whatever the Demogorgon used to be, if it were ever human.

Danny took the vial once he'd swallowed the astringent liquid. Pressing a finger to his lips, Danny pointed towards the ceiling and then the floor, shaking his head no. Dwight wasn't entirely sure what he was saying, but it felt like a warning.

Dwight resorted to lying in his bed when Danny had left hours ago. It wasn't the same as the one back home, but it was better than the cold hard ground back at camp, and he was too exhausted to care. He felt terrible. No, worse than that. Every muscle in his body was aching like he'd had a full body charley horse. As sleepy as he were, anytime he'd close his eyes, he'd find himself jolting awake, confused, and nervous.

Rain pattered against the window near his head; however, he couldn't see anything but darkness outside. When Danny returned, Dwight remained still, listening to the rain. He knew it was him. Dwight had grown used to the musky scent of his cologne, which seemed to air out ten spaces ahead of him like an introduction. He wondered how he'd never noticed it before now.

Danny sat, what sounded like, dishes on the end table. Silverware clinked against the ceramic, and he felt the weight shift on the bed behind him. Dwight hoped he didn't try to strangle him again. The kiss, though it came out of nowhere, would be much more preferable. Dwight hadn't had the time to think about what had happened until now. Everything had happened so fast, but Danny had kissed him. That happened. Dwight didn't know how to feel about that. It only added more confusion to the whirlpool he was drowning in.

"Hey." Danny rested a hand on his shoulder, shaking gently. "There's a trial. Sit up and eat."

Dwight looked over his shoulder, then at the plate of breakfast food and a mug of coffee on the table. Danny was beginning to remind him of his boss, Lazar. A raging narcissist who would go from nasty to nice depending on if he wanted something from you or not. He could be your best friend or your worst enemy. Right now, Dwight wanted a friend. And the scrambled eggs didn't look too bad, either.

Danny was the first to speak as Dwight put his glasses on and ate in silence, contemplating his options. He couldn't very well tell Danny no, could he?

"How's your head?" Danny removed a glove and stretched his hand towards Dwight's face. He considered batting it away, but instead, he allowed Danny to press his hand against his forehead.

"Dizzy. I can still hear him laughing, too."

"You need another shot. Carter's still with you." Danny said. "You're not going to fight me this time, are you?"

"No." 

Dwight wondered if it were safe to continue injecting him with a mysterious serum some alchemist suggested. Then again, there wasn't particularly anything safe about his life right now. In any case, Danny had brought change to the monotony of his life in the trials. He had to admit he was a little curious and somewhat excited to see where all this was going.

As Danny made his way behind him on the mattress, Dwight's shoulders tensed instinctively. Picking up the coffee to distract himself, Dwight inhaled the warm scent. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had coffee. Not the real kind, anyway. They'd managed to find the instant stuff, but it never came close to a fresh brew.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in the rich fragrance before taking the first sip, savoring the creamy yet nutty flavor that was absent of any bitterness. Perhaps he and Danny had something in common after all.

"Don't move," Danny said.

Dwight set the mug back on the table. If the shot hurt as much as last time, he didn't want to risk spilling it on his lap and burning himself more than he had been from the fire.

Tilting Dwight's head to the side, Danny injected him again. It hurt the same, but he'd been prepared for it this time, relaxed even.

"How many… times have you done this to me?" Dwight asked once he'd finished.

"Three." Danny rested his hands on his shoulders, sitting behind him. "Take the medicine."

Grabbing the vial, Dwight drank the sour concoction without any verbal complaint; however, he couldn't help but wonder why he'd administered the shot so soon. As far as he knew, it'd only been a few hours since Danny had left. He supposed there was a good reason, but he knew he was putting too much faith into someone who could potentially be poisoning him with something.

"We're going to the MacMillan Estate," Danny said, leaving the bed. "If she pulls you into a trial, don't leave through a gate, or use the black lock."

Dwight wanted to ask why not, but Danny was already out the door as if he couldn't get away from him fast enough. Sighing, Dwight retrieved the mug and pressed a hand over the heated injection point. It hurt less than last time, but it stung enough to make him want to curl into a ball and scream. His breath began to saw in and out, and Dwight shut his eyes tight. He tried to focus on the coffee's aroma instead of the pain. It was magnifying, spreading up the base of his skull and down his spine.

He dropped the mug, and it shattered against the wood floor. Whimpering, he gripped his neck tight, wishing that Danny hadn't left him to endure it alone.

The mineshaft elevator reeked of rust and gunpowder. Black gunk had thickened around the hinges of the door, and Dwight had little faith that the lift would work at all, let alone hold their weight. After looking inside, and noting the dissolved hole in the floor, Dwight gave Danny a skeptical look.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Dwight asked, stepping away from the death trap.

He wondered what they'd find at the bottom of the shaft. Danny hadn't said much on their walk to the property. He'd only continuously checked over his shoulder to see if someone was following them. He wondered what kind of a monster could unnerve a callous killer such as Danny.

"It's the only way down," he said.

"What's under there?"

Danny was quiet a moment, seemingly in thought as he tested the lift before stepping inside. Dwight hesitantly followed behind, stiff as a plank. The gate closed, and Danny activated the switch to lower the lift. It screeched and shuttered as the old machine came to life, rocking beneath their feet. Dwight squeezed the safety rail behind him, holding his breath.

"I think you call him Trapper," Danny said after a lengthy silence. "He hates the Entity more than you."

That was difficult for Dwight to believe. The killers had free reign over the realm, butchering and assaulting anyone and anyway they wanted with few restrictions. Dwight recalled the first time they'd met the Trapper, and his hostility was just the same as any other they'd met. Maybe even worse.

"Why does he hate the Entity?"

Dwight didn't think it would hurt to ask, but Danny didn't bother to explain. Instead, he cursed under his breath as the elevator hitched and locked in place. Danny attempted to move the lever up and down as if that would jump it into gear again; however, the light bulb above them had gone dark. Being around generators for the last, he didn't know how many years, he had a suspicion as to what happened. That or the Entity noticed and put a stop to Danny's treachery before it could gain any headway.

"Useless generators. Guess we're taking the long way," Danny said.

"You don't mean we're—"

"There's a hatch in the floor. If you use the railing, you can climb down to the bottom."

The elevator creaked beneath their weight as they stepped around the lift, carefully searching for the hatch. It was a bad idea. There wasn't any light to see with, and no idea where any of the beams even were. And yet Danny was asking him to climb into the belly of the mines, trusting him that what he was saying was true.

Dwight didn't trust him. Didn't believe a word he was saying, but he wanted to see where this was going. Dwight needed answers, and he'd already come so far. He didn't think there was any way of turning back now, especially with Danny babysitting his every move.

When Danny found the hatch, he pulled it open. The hinges screamed and pierced at Dwight's eardrums prompting him to cover his ears and grit his teeth from the terrible sound. The door snapped off with little force, and the two shared a look before Danny tossed it to the side.

"Can see some light down there. Looks like hers, though."

"You still want to go down there?"

"Yeah, follow me. It's easier than it looks."

The wall of the shaft was cracked and rough, scraping against the palms of Dwights hands and his fingers as he tried to find purchase on the support beams. With the light down below, he could see where he was going and navigate his way down. However, Dwight never was good at climbing rope in gym class, and this wasn't entirely different. He wished he'd been in peak physical shape when the Entity had taken him. Then again, he never had that kind of physique or strength.

It took all the strength in his arms and legs not to let go of the beam. Every little creak of wood made Dwight's heart leap into his throat, and he thought for sure he was going to fall.

"Doing alright up there?" Danny called from the bottom.

Pressing his forehead against the uneven surface of the wall, Dwight tried not to look anywhere below his neckline. He imagined Danny was laughing at him right now, mocking him for being unable to do something he'd made look easy.

"We don't have time for this. Pick up the pace!"

"I'm going, okay?" Dwight snapped, gritting his teeth. Dwight began to move quicker, gradually gaining confidence in his footing as he descended. That was until a beam finally did break, and he lost his grip.

The wind was knocked out of Dwight as he hit the ground with a thud on his back. It hadn't been as steep as he'd expected it to be, but his heart was racing like a horse at the derby. Danny was laughing, but he extended a hand to help Dwight to his feet.

"Didn't break anything, did you?"

"Just my dignity." Dwight groaned, brushing off the dirt, debris, and spider webs from his clothes.

It was still difficult to see in the tunnel, but Danny had managed to find a lamp on a workbench, lighting it with a match from the pack he kept on his person. Every shadow looked like an enemy waiting to pounce. He hoped this wouldn't take long. And maybe next time they could arrange a better meeting place that didn't involve a steep descent on a rickety old elevator.

"Guess you're up, pro. That generator isn't going to repair itself." Of course, it wasn't. Danny pushed against his lower back with a chuckle, volunteering him to be the leader of their party. 

Navigating the tunnels of the mineshaft was about as complicated as Dwight thought it would be. Every turn landed them at yet another T-Junction or a dead end. Dwight was beginning to suspect Danny had never been down there before.

After a while, they'd found some helmets with flashlights on the front, but Danny kept the lantern.

"You can look like a dork, but I won't," He'd said.

A map on the wall caught Dwight's eye, and he paused to get a closer look at it after securing his helmet and flipping on the light.

"I think I found something," Dwight said, stepping closer. 

No response. Dwight turned to look around the corridor to find he wasn't in the room. Dwight couldn't see the warm glow of the lantern either, or hear his footsteps in the distance. When Dwight realized he was alone, his mind jumped to the worst-case scenario. The Entity split them up.

"Danny?"

Biting the inside of his cheek, Dwight attempted to fight back his rising anxiety. He had a map. He could find his way to the generator and meet up with Danny later.

Taking the map, Dwight made his way in the direction they'd been initially heading.

After he'd closed his eyes and taken a deep breath, Dwight forced himself to continue. He kept his hand pressed against the jagged rocky wall and followed the orange veins in the ground that ran along the shaft like a root infestation. Although it put him more on edge, they supplied more light, and he found it easier to navigate around the rocks and debris with their help.

Dwight hoped that their separation didn't mean a trial had started. They were on the estate, but there weren't any mines in that area that he could recall. None they could enter anyway. Then again, the Entity always had created new locations to torment them in.

After what felt like forever walking down the same looking corridors, Dwight happened across a steel door without any markings. Unfolding and lifting his map into the light, he tried to retrace his steps on the paper before deciding it was an office room of sorts. He pulled open the door, struggling at first to move it before it finally gave way. Once opened, Dwight leaned forward with his hands on his knees and panted, and his headlamp's light shone on the fresh skid marks on the ground. There was no way Danny had come down the same path as him.

A part of him was happy to be rid of that maniac. But at the same time, he was scared. Alone in the dark was not where Dwight wanted to be with the Trapper down there with him. But he didn't have a choice. He had to summon the strength to face the dark and find the power room. Or an exit.

He needed to be brave.


	7. Chapter 7

The yellow ventilation tarp that ran along the ceiling was Dwight’s only guide as he made his way deeper into the mineshaft. The metal support beams overhead were becoming dislodged from their surface, and some chains dangled from above. He wondered what they used them for as he passed underneath, noting that it was only a matter of time before the ceiling they were attached to collapsed.

The corrosion overhead was terrible, and the water dripping through the cracks along its surface created jagged flooring and puddles of mud that made traversing the terrain difficult. If Dwight didn’t twist his ankle, he was likely to step into a deep drop off into a pit somewhere and drown.

Unlike before, there weren’t as many turns to get lost. However, Dwight soon realized his map was out of date by the time he arrived at what should have been the exit. The only thing he could see was a wall of rocks and gobbing.

His stomach dropped, twisting into a knot. Dwight thought he was going to throw up as he brought the map to the light, double-checking the path he’d taken. There wasn’t anywhere else he could have turned to lose his way, but there he was in front of a dead-end with nowhere left to go.

“M-maybe I should turn back,” Dwight said, thinking out loud. His voice echoed back to his ears, and it made the mine feel even more isolating and empty than it already was.

Dwight whipped around when the chains rattled behind him, shining the headlamp’s light into the stone passage. The routes were different than before, and he could see a multitude of new paths. There were four or five, maybe more. But Dwight was sure that he wasn’t where he’d been previously.

A light waved through one of the tunnels as if someone were turning around, followed by a thud. It sounded once, echoing from the walls, and ended with the sound of pebbles or something small hitting the ground.

“Hello?” Dwight asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He could only hear his own shaky breathes in response.

He hoped it was Danny. If he were sneaking around to stab him in the back, it would be preferable to the dread of not knowing what was hiding in the shadows.

Leaving the dead end, Dwight wandered into the dark, scanning the shadows, the corners, and careful with each step. The mud hadn’t gone anywhere, and it led into a flooded inclined path.

Kneeling to see if there were any room to stay above water, or perhaps another dry path he wasn’t seeing, Dwight thought he could hear something beneath the surface of the water. Unable to make out what he was listening to, he stood up and stepped away, backing into something firm. Turning around, he lost his footing as someone pushed him. Dwight caught a glimpse of someone in the dark before losing his balance on the slick floor and hitting the water with a hard slap.

Dwight knew he was in trouble when his head connected with the wall and was stunned by the impact, inhaling water. He began to panic, clawing at the water, flailing, and struggling to find purchase before he felt himself start to sink. Dwight had started to kick frantically, telling himself that if he were going to survive this, he needed to learn how to swim and to do it fast.

He was almost out of air. His fingers brushed the surface for only a moment before sinking again. He wanted to scream, to cry out for someone to help him, but couldn’t. He wanted Danny, or the other survivors to appear and tell him it was just a big joke. That they thought it’d be funny to jump scare him in the dark. However, the overwhelming panic soon dissolved into a state of complete acceptance as the fight began to leave him, and he allowed himself to sink.

It was ice cold at the bottom, but even with his helmet light, he couldn’t see anything but rock and ore veins along the walls. He knew he was going to drown. It would only be another few seconds. He wondered if he would die for good this time, or wake up in his room again. He’d lost track of how many times they’d killed him by now.

Every time Dwight died, he’d think back to the forest before the fog. This time was no different as he remembered the night of drinking with his boss and co-workers. Lazar had gotten his revenge. He didn’t know how Lazar knew he was the one responsible, but he did.

It hadn’t been on purpose. At least, that’s what Dwight tells himself as he drifts away for what must have been the hundredth time in his short life. It wasn’t the truth, he knew it wasn’t the truth, and even as he felt himself slipping further into the arms of eternal sleep, he didn’t want to admit what he’d done. If the key to leaving was acceptance, he didn’t want it.

_‘I deserve to be punished.’_

The ground beneath him began to rumble against his back gently, and it soon escalated into a powerful tremor. The floor crumbled and collapsed into the level below, and Dwight cried out as his back hit the floor. He landed on top of something small, yet solid, but the water rushing on top of him like a waterfall choked him into silence.

He rolled over, dragging himself with every bit of strength he had left to move away from the flooding, drawing in every breath he could muster between coughing fits. His lungs felt like they were on fire, and he lay on the floor, panting with his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see where he was now, but he was grateful the head lamp’s light had survived both the fall and the impact of the wall.

“Come on,” Dwight said, urging himself to get up.

All he wanted was to lie there until it was over, but the thought of whoever he’d seen up above coming down to join him gave him what little bit of adrenaline he needed to get to his feet, albeit wobbly. He used the wall for leverage, coughing again as his lungs struggled to adjust to the thin oxygen, leaving him with blurry vision and dizziness. Thinking his glasses had gotten crooked, he reached to fix them only to find they weren’t there.

The tunnel was already beginning to flood, and judging by the sound of the logs stacked with boulders above his head, he needed to get out. There was no time to feel along the ground to look.

As much as it pained him to leave his glasses behind, he continued through the narrow tunnel, feeling around the wall until he located a turn. Dwight was thankful that he was nearsighted so he could see what was close in front of him at the very least. 

He couldn’t see the details of the tunnels, but he could make out their shapes enough to make it through without running into the wall. It hurt his eyes, which were involuntarily squinting as Dwight strained to see in front of him through the dark. He felt abnormal and naked without the accessory, which had become a part of his face over time. And even with the lamp’s help, Dwight felt like he was more than just somewhat blind, fumbling around in the dark.

Ascending a slope that curved to the right, Dwight thought for a second he felt airflow up ahead. Relieved yet skeptical, he proceeded on until he found dry floor again.

The ceiling was getting lower, and the walls felt as though they were closing in on him. Tighter and smaller until Dwight could feel the walls rubbing against his shoulders. The only thing that kept him going was the promise of an exit. However, as he squeezed through a much too narrow horizontal passage, he found a ladder leading down, not up.

Above, Dwight spotted where the airflow had come in. A crack in the ceiling. It was much too small to squeeze through, and he doubted he could do anything to it without bringing everything on top of his head. Not that he had the tools to try.

“Dammit.” He wiped the sweat from his brow. The last thing he wanted to do was climb down that ladder, but he didn’t want to go back the way he’d come either.

His eyes were beginning to hurt, straining them to see built-up pressure and made them burn around the backs of them. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, soothing them temporarily before he faced the ladder again.

At the bottom of the ladder was an intricately carved stone door the size of a crawl space. The door was unlocked, and surprisingly easy to push open, offering little resistance as it slid against the stone floor on the other side.

“What in the world?” Dwight said aloud, astonished by what he saw as he left the shaft.

The door led to what he could only describe as a chamber or some kind of temple. Not the one he’d seen before in the forest, this one was different. This one was wrong. The walls and the floors were tilted at a thirty-degree angle and covered in faintly glowing, pulsating slimy tendrils that connected with the environment like veins. The room was a cylinder, yet cube-like with many walkways with drop-offs that led to bottomless pits below. Peering over the edge gave Dwight vertigo and the common sense to stay away from it.

The room rumbled, a soft shift, and he saw something move up ahead. His blood ran cold at the sight of the large indescribable organic mass in the center of the room. Whether it be from Dwight’s lack of vision or if the amalgam of flesh-like shapes were, in fact, its natural form. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen and nothing he could ever imagine. Its colossal figure violated all biological principals, and the only thing that was discernible that he could identify was the color black.

A cobblestone ring encompassed the creature, and a glowing cube hovered above the thing, illuminating the room to where Dwight no longer needed his helmet to see. Inching closer, Dwight thought his legs might give out as they trembled with each step. There had to be another door somewhere. An exit that led very far away from the thing that dwarfed him in comparison to its size.

It’s stench permeated the room like a thick musk as Dwight kept close to the wall, trying not to gag. When he was closer to the thing, Dwight could hear the familiar heartbeat that always signaled danger, that pulsating sound that had haunted him and the others for years.

The sound of whispers made him hesitate and press his back against the wall. It was moving, breathing; the thing in front of him was alive. He covered his mouth, terrified that a single breath would attract the creature’s attention. A faintly glowing excretion dripped from its unimaginable form, wet and slimy as it rested in the chamber of fluid, which was collecting at the bottom like a reservoir.

The closer he was to the creature, it’s whispering, the heartbeat, they were louder than they had ever been before, and for a moment, Dwight thought he might go mad from the awful noise. The kind of madness that not even the Doctor could prescribe.

It hurt to think. It hurt not to think. Dwight could feel it clawing its way inside his skull like a pointed needle. He covered his ears and screamed.

“Stop!” It made his head feel as if it were going to explode if the sound lasted any longer. He knelt to his knees, whimpering from the pain in his head. Images flashed in his head, and he could see what visions of something ancient and hungry flooding his mind and planting itself into his subconscious, attacking his brain like a parasitic signal.

There was movement behind him, and Dwight knew he had to go.

Now.

He could see a passage in the northwest of the room, but it wasn’t close. The doorway was half-hidden behind a circular pillar with the veins wrapped around it like a trunk. They were moving, which made his stomach lurch with the thought of them touching him. He had to get there, however. He had to get away from the creature who radiated a heat that was not unlike a furnace as the veins, the roots, whatever they were, began to retract towards the center of the room.

Dwight knew who was behind him. It had a form. It was a mass of preternatural horror, but it existed.

It was alive.

Those words were resonating inside his skull beneath the surface of never-ending whispers, but he didn’t want to believe that something like that could exist in reality.

Forcing himself to his feet, Dwight hurried for the darkened frame of a doorway. Something followed, large and fast, but he didn’t stop, urging himself to run, and pushing past his body’s limits. He could see the shadows on the walls slithering like snakes, encroaching on him faster than his legs could run. His lungs felt like they would rupture at any second, followed by his heart that slammed against his chest like a jackhammer.

Through the doorway, it followed. Dwight could feel the heat of the shadows licking at his feet as he ran through a now concrete hallway. It was a building, and just ahead, there were stairs. As Dwight reached the bottom of the steps, a bear trap clamped around his ankle, snapping the bone in half.

Dwight screamed out in pain, collapsing hard against the metal steps. He frantically tried to climb them on his hands and knees, even with the bulky device caught around him. It hurt like hell, but Dwight eventually made it to the top, scrambling through a door and falling to the floor with a thud. He sobbed, screaming at the top of his lungs, but he couldn’t hear himself over the sound of the Entity inside his head. Desperate, he reached a trembling hand into his pocket and retrieved the scissor he’d saved from before. He had to get it out; he had to make it stop.

“Leave me alone!”

Dwight rammed the scissor into his ear, repeatedly. The pain was almost as unbearable as the noise, but he continued with the other. His hand was unsteady, bloody, and cut from the blade of the scissor, but he did what he had to. For his sanity, if nothing else.

In the end, there was silence. Complete, and empty, silence.

He dropped the scissor and covered his face with his hands, sobbing into them until it settled to a whimpered cry.

Peeling his hands back, he looked up at the sky. He was outside. The building was gone, and so was the pain. He could hear the rustle of the trees, and he could see the detail of the stars up above. Dwight reached a jittery hand to his face, touching the frames of his glasses. He swallowed, sniffling as he tried to recompose himself. Recount what had happened and to figure out if any of that had been real or not.

The Entity hadn’t killed him. That in of itself was a victory, he told himself. The Entity hadn’t killed him. He repeated it like a mantra, which soothed his mental anguish. Somehow he’d made it out, away from that abomination. There wasn’t any other word for it.

With a groan, Dwight sat up on his elbows and looked down at his blood-soaked pant leg. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of it, but when he rotated his ankle, there was no pain.

“Dwight! Get your arse up!” It was David, running passed him with a flashlight in hand. He looked pissed, but Dwight could barely bring himself to sit up straight, let alone commit to standing up.

Exhaustion was beginning to win over his fortitude; he didn’t know how much more fight he had left. When David saw he was struggling, he made a u-turn from the generator he’d been heading for in the distance and went back for him.

“What are you doing? Come on!”

David helped him to his feet, but he didn’t stick around long, running back towards the generator and checking once on Dwight over his shoulder.

Dwight cautiously made his way to the generator to join David before he decided to yell at him again. The last thing they needed was for him to draw attention to them.

He had a pretty good idea who it was, and if the Trapper was in a trial, then where was Danny? He tried not to worry about him, but he couldn’t help it. Attempting to remind himself that the concern wouldn’t be mutual didn’t help, either. He was still concerned. Seeing the human side of Danny made him human, and Dwight wished he could go back to viewing him as a monster.

The generator blew seconds after Dwight touched it, and he thought for sure David was about to punch him by the look on his face, but he didn’t. Dwight knew he was out of practice, and his mind kept wandering back to Danny. About his whereabouts, and what his plan had been going down there. Dwight also wondered if Danny had lured him there to the Entity on purpose. Or had it merely been a coincidence he had stumbled across her?

“Well?” David said after a few minutes, “Start talking. Where the hell you been for the last two weeks?”

“Two weeks? It’s been weeks already?”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“Sorry… I mean, I’m not.” He shook his head, attempting to remain assertive. David could easily break him in half if he wanted to, but Dwight was more concerned about what Danny would do him if he told anyone about what he’d been doing. Or what the Entity would do if she overheard the conversation. He didn’t know how much she could hear. “I want to tell you… I do, David, but I—”

“Spit it out already.” David didn’t shout, but the aggressiveness of his tone made it clear he was getting fed up with his crap. There was no telling what Nathan Palmer had said to them once he got back to camp.

All Dwight wanted was to take a breather, not be interrogated on top of being hunted. He couldn’t risk telling David the truth. None of them could afford to lose the only hope that existed in the nightmare.

“I’m helping. That’s all I can tell you right now. Just trust me.”

David scoffed but didn’t push the matter further. With the generator now repaired, David grabbed Dwight’s wrist tight and pulled him like his arm was a leash, leading him between the trees. Even if Dwight wanted to, he didn’t think he could get away from his grip. The man’s strength was twice that of Danny’s, maybe even some of the other killers’, too. If the Entity didn’t make them invulnerable to damage, he had no doubt David would’ve fought his way free by now.

It brought Dwight back to a question he’s always wondered. Why Danny chose him of all people, he wasn’t strong. He wasn’t even very smart or good at most things. The other survivors were leagues above him in skill, yet Danny put all his faith into living mediocrity. It didn’t make any sense to him.

_‘Stop thinking about him.’_

A scream cut him from his thoughts, but he didn’t recognize who it was. It sounded like a woman. David cursed under his breath, and Dwight waited to see the Entity appear in the sky to signal where the killer had hooked them, but nothing happened.

When the next scream rang out over the estate, it was Jake this time, and Dwight realized they were being killed without a sacrifice first. The only killer he could think of who had that kind of ability would be the Shape.

It chilled Dwight to the bone at the thought of him being there, and he looked to David for guidance, but David seemed just as unnerved, although he hid it better. Their only real option would be the hatch, but even that was a long shot. And if David wasn’t going to contribute any suggestions, Dwight knew he’d have to step up as leader again.

“A key,” Dwight said. “We have to find a key.”


	8. Chapter 8

David had agreed to the plan, but he held onto Dwight's wrist with a death grip as they crept along the estate grounds, hesitant to let Dwight wander from his sight for too long. A dense fog blanketed the area, preventing them from seeing too far ahead. If they couldn't see much of anything, neither could the Shape. Dwight found it strange; he couldn't remember seeing the fog earlier. He wondered if it'd always been there, or if it was another anomaly in the realm.

The two peered around the trunk of a tree, searching for any sign of the Shape or a chest. Laurie had called him Michael Myers once; she didn't have any advice except to keep moving, and never let your guard down. The Shape was always ten steps ahead of you, whether you thought you had the upper hand or not. Dwight had gone against him enough to know that was the truth.

"Where the hell are you?" David muttered.

"Don't draw attention to yourself," Dwight whispered. "Stick to the shadows."

"I know." David shot him a glare before turning his attention towards the main building in the distance. It had been a reminder, not a suggestion. Although Dwight could see he'd struck a nerve, so he kept his mouth shut as David continued, nodding in the direction of the warehouse. "There's a chest in there, yeah? You get that, and I take shack. Meet up 'ere after."

"Sure?"

David sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Let's find that bloody key already."

The old building creaked with age as Dwight made his way into the old storehouse with nothing but the flashlight David had provided him. David had insisted he didn't need it outside, telling him it was a loan, not a gift. Well, if that were the case, then Dwight figured he'd better return it soon. David didn't seem the type to let things like that go.

There wasn't much to see in the old storehouse except a lot of shelves and wooden crates. However, he remembered there being a chest by the generator. Usually, Ace would call dibs the second he saw it, but he wasn't around to claim the loot for himself this time.

Creeping further into the building, he was unsure if the footsteps he heard were his own, or if the Shape was nearby watching him like a ghost from afar, waiting to impale him. Dwight shuddered at the thought of being met with that fate again. There was something so cold and inhuman about the Shape that caused his senseless murder to be that much more sinister. At least the other killers appeared to enjoy what they did.

Most of them.

Dwight's thoughts drifted to before the trial, almost forgotten like a distant dream. But it hadn't been a dream, and his blood-soaked pant leg was evidence of such. The Trapper, whose name he didn't know, had been there at some point. He had to have been; there were bear traps after all. Dwight wondered if their pursuer had meant to be the Trapper, only for the Shape to replace him. The thought alone seemed ridiculous even to himself, there were rules, there'd always been rules, but nothing was impossible.

Dwight attempted to clear his mind by focusing on what was in front of him. Now wasn't the time to get distracted.

The chest was left of the generator up against a steel storage shelf, and behind a wooden crate. The box didn't do much to conceal it, or himself, as Dwight knelt and nervously opened the box to search its contents. The chest was empty. He had expected to find an item at the very least, but the lack of anything at all troubled him.

 _Crap. Did someone already take it?_ He wondered, carefully closing the top back in place.

The chance of there being a key in the chest was low at best, but if there had been one, he wondered if it were on one of the others. David would probably be the first to stumble across them; in fact, Dwight had a feeling that was the reason David had chosen to search outside. David didn't like to leave their bodies discarded like a sky burial for the crows. It troubled Dwight that David would risk his life so that he could close their eyes and adjust them in a supine position.

It was one of the only things Dwight found likable about the brute. He envied that courage, to put yourself in the face of death to stand for your beliefs. He'd never been able to, even for his friends. Like Rose. Dwight wondered how different things would have turned out if he'd stood up for her.

Dwight headed for the entrance he'd come in, searching the floor for any sign of an item in hopes the looter had dropped it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He paused and listened, getting the feeling that someone was watching him. He swallowed and looked over his shoulder at the ghost-white mask at the back of the building. Unlike Danny, the Shape didn't care if the survivors saw him or not, staring them down until he decided it was time to gut them like a fish.

The Shape hadn't made a sound, even as he began to walk towards him, and Dwight's stomach flipped. He forced his legs to move, ripping them from their fear-induced paralysis. Dwight bolted for the exit, glancing behind him in a blur of panic as he ran for someplace safe. Somewhere far away from the killer's shack, if that's where David ended up. The last thing he wanted to do was lead the Shape right to him.

Once he’d ran far enough, Dwight hid behind a pair of blue plastic drums. His lungs felt as though they were going to burst, but he tried to inhale what little oxygen he could while remaining quiet. A bead of sweat ran down his temple and along his jawline as Dwight peered around the barrel. He frantically scanned the grounds and woods of the estate for any sign of him but saw nothing. Every wisp of wind sent his heart skipping, his heels dug into the ground, prepared to sprint at a moment's notice.

As Dwight strained his ears, his body stiffened when he heard the crunch of leaves and twigs. He placed a hand over his mouth and nose to muffle the sound of his breathing, afraid the Shape might hear.

"Dwight," a man whispered from behind.

The whisper almost scared Dwight right out of his skin, but his brain quickly recognized it to belonging to David. They locked eyes, Dwight's wide with fright and David's puffy and red. He motioned his hand for Dwight to come towards him behind the trees, nodding his head in the direction behind him as an indication of where he wanted him to go.

Dwight shook his head no, checking back around the barrel to see if the Shape had caught up. David moved closer, crouched low to the ground until he was beside him behind the drums.

"Found the hatch," he continued to whisper. "No key, though. Any luck?" When Dwight shook his head no again, David scoffed and seized his wrist, giving him no choice but to go with him. As they walked, Dwight continued to look over his shoulder, unconvinced that the Shape had given up his pursuit. "I checked Jake for the key. He didn't have anything. Zarina might, though."

David moved towards two figures on the ground near a sizeable ancient-looking tree. The bloody drag marks along the ground were proof that David had relocated them, but only Jake was in the supine position. The girl, a young woman with short dark hair, was lying on her side. Her hazel eyes were wide open with terror, and she was gripping a tuft of brown hair in her fist. Dwight hoped he had merely not had the time to give her the proper respect, and didn't leave her that way on purpose.

"Zarina?"

"New girl. Her first trial, too. Son of a bitch got too close before I could check her." David knelt to search her pockets for the key, but Dwight doubted she had anything since she was new. He hoped the others had had time to fill her in before she found herself in a trial as Nathan Palmer had at the hospital.

Turning his attention from David, Dwight scanned the tree lines. It didn't take long before he spotted the Shape, although it didn't appear as if the Shape saw them. The distance wasn't far, perhaps twenty meters at most. The Shape might have heard every word they'd said; however, he was standing as still as a statue and made no sign of moving. The Shape clenched his knife so tight that Dwight could see the veins ready to pop in his pale hands as if he were angry and itching to shove it into something.

The Shape abruptly turned his head in their direction, and Dwight gasped, moving behind a tree. He could hear his footsteps moving closer and closer until he couldn’t take it anymore. He'd made it a few meters before realizing he'd almost left his friend behind, skidding in his tracks and shouting at David, who was already standing and searching for the threat.

"Forget it; we have to go!"

"Like hell, I am. I'll keep 'em busy while you take the hatch. It’s behind that wall."

"What? What kind of plan is that? Let's go!" Dwight was already walking away, keeping his eyes fixed on the slow-moving Shape, who continued to watch them during his approach.

"I ain't letting ya disappear again, kid. You get your scrawny arse in that hatch the moment the bastard kills me. And I'd better see you at the bonfire." Dwight knew there was no talking David out of it as he made his way towards the Shape, his arms outstretched, and his voice booming as he called out to him. "C'mon, Mikey, the foreplays gettin' old. We gonna play this game or ya gone soft on me?"

Stealing a glance at Jake and Zarina, Dwight turned towards the direction David had said the hatch would be, but he had no intention of going into it. Not without him, anyway. He wasn't going to leave his friend to die for no reason. They could both get out if they found the last few generators and fixed them. It didn't have to end in bloodshed.

Moving behind the trees, Dwight kept out of sight, gripping the flashlight in his hand with a plan in mind. He'd seen Nea do it before, and it had bought her precious time to slip into the shadows after blinding their pursuers. David wasn't going to like his interruption, but Dwight didn't care as long as it saved his life.

Dwight clenched his jaw and waited, watching as the two men strode closer to one another. The Shape's hand had loosened to his natural grip on the handle of his blade, picking up the pace of his step. David was smirking, but Dwight could see the fear in his eyes and the occasional twitch of his lips. The brave act dissipated the closer the Shape got, and David took a faltering step back.

"Get it over with ya bastard," he spat.

The Shape didn't need an invitation. He reached for David's neck, but as he lifted his blade, Dwight flipped on the light. He shined it directly into the eye holes of the mask, and The Shape halted, wincing and turning his head with a barely audible grunt. However, the Shape recovered immediately and killed David just like the others. The Shape ignored Dwight as he continued to try to blind him with growing desperation. When the battery died, Dwight started to beat the flashlight against his shoulder, back, and arm, but there was no reaction.

When The Shape had finished, he tossed David aside like a rag doll to the ground, and Dwight staggered back against a tree, shaking uncontrollably with the now-dead flashlight between both hands. He knew he should run for the hatch, but even if he could get his legs to move, the words Danny had said back at his apartment came to mind like a warning.

_Don’t leave through the exits._

The Shape turned to him, and Dwight gulped, waiting for it to be over. He shut his eyes tight, but instead of being stabbed, the Shape lifted him over his shoulder. Dwight grunted as his abdomen pressed against his sturdy build, but he didn't bother to struggle. He figured he was taking him to be sacrificed on the hook instead, which technically wouldn't be an exit. Though he'd only been killed directly up until then, he wasn't sure where he would end up after.

They passed a hook, but Dwight continued to think nothing of it. The basement was more personal; it took longer to kill them. However, the familiar hum of the hatch caught Dwight's attention, and he was slid off of the Shape's shoulder and dropped on the ground before he had a chance to protest.

With a groan, Dwight sat up straight and looked at the hatch and then back at the Shape, whose fist was once again tightly curled around the hilt of the blade. He'd never heard of a killer willingly letting them go, and he especially didn't expect it from someone like him. He was as cold and callous as they came.

"I don't want it," Dwight said quietly. "K-kill me."

The call to the hatch was like a siren's song, and Dwight wanted to dive in headfirst, but Danny's words were repeating in his head like a broken record. That, and with the serum in his veins, he didn't know what would happen if he went back to camp. Whenever the killers had tried to access it between trials, the Entity would prevent it by hurting them. It was like an electric fence made of black vines. Danny had said the serum masked him, and if the Entity mistook him for a killer trying to trespass through the hatch, he was afraid of what would happen.

The Shape seized Dwight by the throat and lifted him from the ground. Dwight gasped, choking as he grabbed hold of the Shape's wrists, instinctively trying to break free. He waited for the sharp pierce of the metal that never came. Instead of death, Dwight was dropped into the hatch, and the cold, black abyss swallowed him before he had time to register what had happened.


	9. Chapter 9

Whenever Dwight had nightmares, he'd always find a way to remember that he was dreaming. Whether it be trying to turn on a light switch or using his cellphone to call someone, it was always a sure-fire way to tell if what was happening was real. Of course, Dwight was fully aware that the place he was in wasn't a dream, he'd still held out what little bit of hope as he reached for a light switch beside a dented, beaten metal door.

The light switch was considerably heavy in his hand, and Dwight had to use most of his strength to flip it up. The fluorescent light above buzzed as it turned on, but only a few meters of concrete were attached. The place he found himself looked like it was from a dream, an endless void of nothing but the occasional floating platforms, debris, and rocks. He was standing on a hardwood floor that extended like a bridge across the dark swirling pool of shadow. As far as he could tell, there was nothing below or further ahead—only an endless view of desolation.

A pair of arms snaked around Dwight's waist, pulling him back against them. Dwight gasped, flinching against the stranger, but once he saw it was Danny, he relaxed. It was the first time he could remember being relieved to see him.

"That was close," Danny said. "Didn't I tell you not to leave the trial?"

"I wasn't given much choice."

Danny hummed in response, resting his head on Dwight's shoulder and chuckling to himself about some joke Dwight wasn't let in on. He could feel his breath against his neck, and Dwight shivered with discomfort. Or was it comfort? Dwight wasn't sure what he thought about being touched by him; Dwight certainly wasn't used to this sort of closeness from anyone, and Danny was gradually invading every inch of his personal space whether he encouraged him or not. It was better than the alternative, so he endured the affection.

"Where are we?" Dwight asked once he tired of the silence.

"The Void. I made a space for you just in time. I think you owe me a little something for saving your, well, everything."

The void again. Dwight wondered how far it reached, and if there was an end to it somewhere. Or perhaps it was like space, extending far beyond the reach of anyone's imagination, vivid or otherwise.

"Can we leave?" Dwight pulled away from Danny's hold, even if he'd felt safer in it. The cold temperature of the void chilled him to the bone the longer they stood there, and he rubbed some warmth into his arms as he looked at Danny.

"Ungrateful," Danny said, annoyed.

"I'm not. I mean, thank you. For saving me." Dwight was embarrassed he'd forgotten to acknowledge his effort in keeping him safe. As safe as one can be in the Realm that was.

Danny scoffed, but he smiled. "I meant what I said. I'm not doing this out of charity. I expect repayment for my sacrifices."

There he was. The Ghost Face Dwight remembered he was. He narrowed his eyes at him, half tempted to tell him to go to hell, but he was right. Danny was putting himself in harm's way to help them, and Dwight knew he couldn't take that for granted.

"What do you want?"

"You."

Caught off guard, Dwight didn't know what to say or how to respond to Danny's request. When Dwight didn't say anything, Danny filled in the blanks.

"I want to keep you."

Dwight's stomach twisted with a mixture of disgust and uneasiness. For a moment, he wondered if he'd heard him correctly, but Danny was moving closer to him and reaching for his face with an outstretched hand. Dwight stepped away from his touch and shook his head, anger taking over.

"You mean slavery."

"You owe me, Dwight. I will collect one way or another."

"You're horrible."

Danny shrugged, clearly unbothered by the insult. Dwight wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know, and he couldn't believe he'd been worried about his safety back in the mines; the sorry excuse for a man didn't care about anyone, but himself and it showed. Even when he was trying to help, he twisted it to benefit himself. Narcissists were all the same.

"We're both getting something out of this," Danny said, lifting his hand towards the door behind him, which disappeared into a shadow-filled pool that swirled with various shades of grays and black. "But I'm not helping you for free."

As Danny disappeared into the portal, Dwight considered his options. He couldn't stay there, and against his better judgment, he didn't want to follow after him, but he did. 

Dwight kept his guard up as they entered the area beyond the portal. It was the cabin from before; however, it wasn't as neglected and in disrepair like last time. The cabin was clean and well maintained, with a fire going in the hearth. Danny was knelt in front of it with a fire poker, checking the log. The smell reminded Dwight of the trailer park. The way Danny had cruelly involved a random person into his game just to, what? Dwight still didn't know what Nathan's role was in Danny's plans. If he even had them in the first place. Dwight was beginning to become suspicious that Danny wasn't just messing with him.

"I want to help the others," Dwight said, trying to remain calm and collected in his presence. There wasn't anything Danny could do to him that he hadn't already. "If I agree to this, do you promise you'll let all of us go after?"

"Sure."

Dwight stepped closer. "Promise me, Danny. I agree to be your slave in exchange for our lives. Will you help us, or are you going to toy with me again?"

"I said I'd help, didn't I? Relax."

"Okay… so now what?"

"The serum. But this time, I won't be injecting it.” Dwight didn't like the look in his eye as he turned his attention to the fire poker. "The Alchemist discovered how to make it permanent for his own sake, but I might have stolen one of his books with that nifty little detail. Branding a sigil into your skin, and embedding it with dehydrated serum works just as well, except it’s permanent."

And just like that, every ounce of nerve Dwight had vanished within moments. A chill crept up the back of his scalp, tingling behind his ears, which muffled the sound of everything but the crackling fire.

Danny noticed, smirking at the response he got. Dwight had hoped he'd say he was joking, but Danny retrieved a leather-bound journal from the nearby coffee table, flipping it open to a dog-eared section.

"You stole it from him?" Dwight tried to avoid the main topic, focusing more so on the fact he'd betrayed someone supposedly on their side. "What if he stops helping us once he notices?"

"He won't. Take your hoodie and shirt off."

When Dwight didn't immediately jump when he told him to, Danny stood, approaching him with an annoyed expression. Dwight lowered his head, clenching his fist around the end of his sleeves and waited for him to force him to undress.

The thought of being branded terrified him. It would scare anyone, and Dwight didn't think he was being unreasonable for being reluctant about the whole thing. The only comparison he had was burning his arm on the frying racks at his old jobs. That alone hurt like hell, and it was only for a split second. He could only imagine how painful branding would be.

"Hey," Danny softly said, pinching Dwight's chin with his thumb and index fingers and lifted his head to look him in the eyes. "It'll keep you out of the trials. Do this, and you won't have to suffer as much anymore."

The sound of that was more than a little appealing, but he still wasn't sure. However, Dwight knew he needed to do this if he wanted any chance of ever leaving the nightmare, so he removed his hoodie up and over his head, and tossed it aside to the floor. As he reached to begin unbuttoning the dress shirt beneath, Danny tried to help. Dwight let him out of fear he'd get offended and call off their deal.

"You wouldn't happen to have any pain killers, would you?" Dwight asked.

"Nope."

The time it took Danny to attach the metal sigil to the poker via copper wire, and heat it over the hearth's fire felt like an eternity. Dwight shifted in his seat on the couch, nervous as he watched him. He stiffened as Danny sat down next to him with his soon to be a torture device.

"Relax. It's going right above your shoulder blade."

Danny held out a thin wooden block that looked to be tinder. Dwight took it without question and turned his back to him, putting the block in his mouth. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on its oak flavor and not the heat radiating off the metal that was inching closer to his skin.

Dwight instantly homed in on the intense pain as the metal touched his skin with a sizzle. The heat damaged the nerve endings beneath his flesh, somewhat numbing him to the pain, but his senses were overwhelmed by the scent of burning flesh. He was unable to cry out or scream as he struggled to take in shallow, quick breaths while biting down on the wooden block. Dwight heard a crack, but he was uncertain if it came from the block or his tooth.

Danny wrapped his free arm around Dwight's chest and held on to keep him from bounding away. Dwight had tried, not of his own volition, but from instinct.

Within seconds, it was over, and Danny tossed the metal rod to the floor with a heavy thunk, pulling Dwight into a secure embrace.

"It's okay; it's over. Breathe, Dwight."

Dwight didn't try to pull away from him, fighting the urge to punch him in the throat. The initial pain was subsiding, leaving him in a dazed stupor as he tried to recover from the shock. Dropping the wooden block from his mouth, Dwight panted heavily, pressing his head against Danny's firm shoulder. Even with the smell of burning skin in the room, somehow Danny's cologne assaulted his olfactory senses and mitigated the stench.

He grasped hold of Danny's robes tight with shaking hands. Never in his time during the trials had he experienced something so painful in such a short burst. Not even the hook came close.

Once he was able to move his arms, Dwight wrapped them around Danny's waist. Danny didn't seem to mind. When his nerves finally calmed, and Dwight was able to focus on something other than the pain, he realized Danny was rubbing the middle of his back.

"D-don't ever do that again," Dwight managed to say.

"I won't. I'll make it up to you."

"Great. Hand me the poker." Dwight tried to lighten the situation by forcing a quiet laugh. He hissed through his teeth when the sharp pain rippled through his back, regretting it immediately.

"Let me show you something."

Danny eased Dwight back from the hug before reaching down to unfasten the belt that secured his robes, and immediately Dwight's attention. He drew his brows downward, confused, as his eyes landed on the myriad of permanent scarring along his abdomen, as well as fresh wounds sloppily stitched with fishing wire and staples that led up to his shoulders and down his arms. Dwight's eyes followed them even further below beneath the beltline, but Danny made no offer to show him any more than he already had.

"I'm sure she left you a spot," Danny said.

Speechless, Dwight couldn't think of a response, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned to look at the fire. He tried not to allow his empathy to get the better of him. Whether or not the Entity hurt him, too, made little difference. He was still a murderer.

In thought, Dwight didn't notice that Danny was moving to the floor until he was already there. His head snapped in place, looking at Danny, who had positioned between his legs and was unbuckling Dwight's belt.

"Wait!" Dwight seized his wrists. "What are you doing?"

"Making it up to you. I've heard orgasms are excellent painkillers." He smirked.

If Dwight's heart hadn't already been hammering against his chest, it would've started then. Danny had a dangerous look in his eye as he rubbed his thumb against the belt, patiently waiting for permission to continue.

The offer interested and even excited Dwight, but he had never been sexually active in his life. Dwight wasn't even sure if he would be able to get it up with as much pain as he was in.

Dwight released his grip on Danny's wrists, taking the chance that this would help in some way or another. Even if it didn't relieve any pain, he wasn't about to give up the once in a lifetime opportunity that he doubted Danny offered lightly. Also, Dwight found it somewhat enjoyable to see Danny kneeling in front of him. For the first time in a long time, Dwight felt like he had control of the situation.

"Relax," Danny said as he tugged down Dwight's jeans and underwear to his ankles.

"Relax," Dwight repeated, taking a breath and leaning back against the couch, careful not to press his wound against it.

It was easier said than done, and Dwight damn near came off the couch when Danny carefully took his limp cock in his leather-gloved hand. Danny tilted his head to the side with an amused expression as he peered up at Dwight, and glided his thumb over the sensitive tip.

Dwight swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, quivering under his touch. It wasn't easy to relax when he was so tense, and Danny was holding his most delicate piece in his hand. He became even more anxious when Danny inched closer and gently wrapped his warm, wet mouth around the glans and rolled his tongue around the head.

Having never had someone's mouth on him before, he'd never in his wildest dreams imagined it'd felt as good as it did. He moaned, biting his bottom lip with increasing arousal as Danny's free hand rubbed his v-line; the cold leather sent shivers down to his cock.

Dwight melted into his touch, his cock hardening within Danny's moist, experienced mouth. He dug his nails into the couch cushions, trying to keep his eyes open so that he could watch the way Danny was enjoying himself. Danny had begun to build a steady rhythm, taking more of his cock into his mouth as he licked along the shaft, his hair tickling the insides of Dwight's thighs. His free hand made it's way down to his balls, stroking them along with his taint.

"Danny," Dwight moaned, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He reached for Danny's head, running his fingers through his hair as he caressed his scalp with gentle encouragement.

Now fully engulfed in his mouth, Danny followed the firm shaft with his hand as he went up and down leisurely with his mouth, tonguing the base of Dwight's cock when he reached the bottom. Dwight tightened his grip on Danny's hair, softly moaning as he laid his head back, and the speed gradually increased to a moderate pace. Dwight could feel the pressure and contractions making their way up to his shaft from his balls, and he knew he was about to come.

"I'm gonna…" He panted heavily as his heart threatened to rip from his chest.

If Danny heard him, he didn't care to stop, proceeding until Dwight couldn't last any longer, and he reached the point of no return. He could feel Danny swallowing his come around the head of his cock, now at the back of his throat as Dwight came with a moan.

As Danny gradually decreased his speed to a halt and removed his cock from his mouth, Dwight tried to savor the precious few remaining seconds of euphoria. Out of breath, Dwight kept his eyes shut as Danny kissed along his pelvis and v-line to ease him down from the high.

"Feel better?" He asked, with a hint of teasing in the tone of his voice.

Dwight licked his dry, chapped lips, unable to respond with more than a lazy nod. Danny laughed and rubbed Dwight's thighs as his now limp cock rested against his pelvis. 

When Dwight finally managed to open his eyes, he could see Danny peering up at him. It was unusual the way Danny looked at him. Almost as if he was admiring him like an art piece. For once, Dwight didn't mind being his center of attention.

"T-thank you," Dwight whispered, releasing his grip on Danny's hair.

The pain was ever-present, but it had been a good distraction. He'd never pictured Danny, of all people, would be the one to give him his first blow job, but he was glad it was him.

"Any time. Let me patch that up before it gets infected."

Dwight nodded again as Danny left the room, leaving him with the reality of what just happened. Now suddenly self-conscious, he pulled his jeans back on with his face flushed with heat.

He buried his face in his hands, wincing from the burning pain that shot along his back. He wished for that ten seconds of bliss to come back. In the throes of orgasm, he'd forgotten about everything, everything except how Danny's mouth felt around him. Comforting and warm, he'd felt safe in his hands.

It didn't make up for the hell he'd been through, but it was a start.


	10. Chapter 10

The scabbing was almost worst than the initial burn itself, and Dwight had to remind himself not to pick at it continually. Danny had been talking his ear off for the better half of the day, but Dwight had started to tune him out. None of it made any sense to him; it was all a bunch of gibberish, occult nonsense. He knew he should probably listen, but with so much new information flying out at once, Dwight was finding it hard to keep up.

"Look at this." Danny held out the, now open, journal he'd had earlier. Arabesque symbols and incoherent ramblings lined the pages, written by someone who'd gradually lost their sanity over the years.

"What am I looking at?"

The journal's leather binding flickered like fireflies when Dwight touched the other side to keep it steady as if it threatened to catch fire and burn all evidence, but Dwight felt no heat coming off of it. There were multiple references to a clock shaped like a coffin written throughout the journal's pages, which began to interest Dwight the more it mentioned the clock. He stopped Danny from turning to the next page before pressing his index finger to one of the paragraphs.

“Why was he so obsessed with this clock?”

Danny shrugged. “We could ask him.”

Dwight looked at him, but could only hold his gaze momentarily before self-consciousness began to eat away at him. They hadn’t talked about what happened, and Danny didn’t seem like it bothered him one way or another. To Dwight, however, it was awkward talking to him face to face when it was still so vividly on his mind.

"Where is he?" Dwight cleared his throat.

"In his space. It moves around, though. And he likes to set traps." Danny closed the journal and tossed it back onto the coffee table.

"I've been wondering something," Dwight said after a brief silence. "If you and the Alchemist know what's going on, and what to do, then why am I here? Do you even need me?"

"I don't." He laughed. "You're just here because I want you to."

"Why?" Dwight furrowed his brows.

"Does it matter? You're not in the trials anymore. Count yourself one of the lucky ones."

Dwight sighed. "Okay, I have another question."

"You and your questions."

"Why didn't the Shape kill me? Is he on our side?"

Danny was silent a moment before shaking his head no. "My guess? She forced him to do it. She gets inside your head. I think she wanted you in the void so that she could banish you permanently. Michael seemed to be fighting against her control. At least, that's how it looked to me. We feel pain, too." Danny shifted uncomfortably in his spot on the couch, face twisting with a sort of agonized expression before walking away from Dwight, apparently done with the conversation. Dwight wondered if he'd struck a nerve somehow, or if Danny was just sick of talking about it.

"Wait, you were there?"

Danny ignored him. He put on his coat and mask as if to hide any more information he might reveal.

Whether Danny admitted it or not, Dwight could tell he was scared, too. He recalled the injuries on Danny's torso and wondered what else the Entity had done to him and if that was why he'd decided to betray her.

The mood in the room had shifted into suffocating silence. Dwight could practically feel the restrained anger coming from Danny as he retrieved his knife from the shelf on the other side of the room. Dwight tensed as he watched him unsheathe the weapon.

"Let's go," Danny said, testing the weight of his knife before slicing it across the air.

Dwight hoped they wouldn’t need that. He was anything but ready for travel, let alone a potential fight for his life. It'd only been half a day since Danny had branded him, and the pain hadn't subsided much over the hours. Healing in the void was a slow and arduous process he'd come to find out, but it would eventually mend itself on its own, leaving nothing but the sigil scarred on his body.

“Do we have to leave now?” Dwight asked, placing a hand on his shoulder to indicate he was still in pain.

Danny paused his assault on the air, tilted his head, and analyzed Dwight a moment before he'd come to his decision. Dwight thought he was going to tell him to suck it up, but Danny sheathed the blade and tossed it back on the shelf.

"We'll leave tomorrow."

"Thank you."

———

The rest did Dwight good, and he was able to move his arm without the return of intense, heated agony biting into his back. The offer Danny had made to return the favor on his torso sounded more and more appealing the longer Dwight endure it without painkillers. Danny was fast asleep behind him on the couch. It would be easy to heat the poker and stick it to his face, but Dwight bit back the urge and focused on the journal instead as he sat on the floor in front of the fire.

None of the entries made much sense, but Dwight tried to think outside of the box as he read the passages repeatedly.

The moon. Clocks shaped like coffins. A thick fog. Some of the things did remind him of the trials. However, what the man had written was about as coherent as he was when he got wasted and tried to be sociable at a bar. That and the majority of the Alchemist's handwriting were messy chicken scratch that rivaled a prescription form.

_[illegible] Hexahedron in the sky, I see the D’axhus. It’s wane forces submission, not unlike my addiction to the blight. I plagued my body with festering, viscous contamination for her [illegible]... Grim mutilation upon my temple filled with vaporous nightmares. I cannot stomach that malevolent [illegible]. The clock resides in Xinlurgash’s infernal fog. [illegible] before I succumb to this acidic chaos growing beneath my flesh._

Some of it made sense to him, but for the most part, it hurt his head, trying to fit the pieces together.

 _Is Xinlurgash the Entity? Does that thing have a name?_ He wondered, turning the page to view the other side. It contained the sigil, and a paragraph confirming what Danny had said earlier.

Dwight looked at him, sleeping on his side with his arms crossed over his chest. He considered waking him but didn’t want to chance a reunion with his knife if he was a cranky riser, so he decided to take a walk instead to relieve his boredom.

There wasn’t much to see in the relatively empty Cabin. A set of stairs led up and a hall to his left that seemed to lead into a kitchen. He could see a single chair and a circular oak table. It wasn’t much different when he entered the room — lacking any form of appliances other than a refrigerator near a door on the right side. He assumed it led to the basement, but Dwight didn’t need to see what he kept down there, he could use his imagination.

When he opened the fridge, Dwight had expected to see nothing, but it had food inside; regular everyday groceries that left Dwight confused. Danny had taken him outside of the realm, but he didn't see the Entity just letting him wander around to go shopping. It could be possible that Danny merely materialized them like he had everything else in the void.

Licking his dry lips, Dwight reached for a bottle of water and hoped Danny wouldn't mind if he took it. Even if he wasn't particularly thirsty, or hungry for that matter, it sounded refreshing. Any amount of normalcy was welcome at that point. There was also a bowl of soup sitting on the top shelf. Dwight immediately recognized it to be the same soup he'd given him before. It hadn't tasted good, but Dwight had appreciated his generosity, although suspicious as it was.

As he took a seat in the chair, he examined the room and opened the sealed water bottle, wondering if the food was essential for the killers. It wouldn't surprise him, as far as he was aware the killers never died. Maybe they could still function normally in the Entity's realm. Xinlurgash's realm. He wasn't sure he liked the thought of the thing having a name. It made him wonder about how it became in the first place. Was it magically created and dropped on Earth, or was it from another dimension or planet where other monsters just as awful existed. Dwight shuddered at the thought of their being more than one of her and tried not to follow that rabbit hole of thought.

“Morning,” Danny’s tired voice said from the doorway, yawning. He rubbed the sleep from his closed eyes and held out a hand towards Dwight.

“Morning,” Dwight repeated, handing over the water bottle.

Danny chugged down the water as if he were about to die of thirst, scarcely breathing until the bottle was empty. He wiped his chin and handed the empty bottle back but seemed to realized what he’d done and smiled.

“Whoops. My bad.”

"It's fine. It's yours, anyway."

"Yep. So, nosy, find anything interesting?"

"Only that you eat food. Do you need to eat?"

Danny stared at him as if he'd said the most bizarre thing in the world before responding, "No, Dwight, I don't eat. I like to keep it for looks. Of course, I eat."

_It was just a question._

“Oh. We don’t need to eat.” Dwight set the bottle on the table. He figured that must have been why Danny was bringing him food even if he didn’t need it to survive. It was strangely endearing to learn that even from the beginning, Danny had considered his basic needs, although he was keeping him held hostage.

He’d expected another assholish remark from Danny, but he said nothing as he retrieved the empty bottle from the table. He pressed the bottom and top between his hands and seemed to be thinking about something.

“We should get going soon,” he said after a minute of silence. “The Entity can’t sense you, but I’m still on her radar. The moment she realizes I’m out of bounds, she’s going to come looking for me.”

“Like in the mines?”

“Bingo. She separated us instantly.” He tossed the bottle back on the table; it bounced a few times before rolling onto the floor with a soft thunk. “No idea where Evan is, though.”

It didn't take Dwight long to realize Evan was the Trapper's name. He hadn't seen him down in the mines, only the person with the flashlight. Dwight doubted it had been Evan, however, since the person shoved him into the water. Unless he'd changed his mind about working with Danny for some reason, it was more likely it hadn't been him.

_Then who was down there? Did they know what we were doing?_

"So, where do we start?" Dwight asked, wary, but he had a sudden determination to see things through. Whether he had a choice or not, it was the best option he had. Trusting Danny might be the dumbest decision he'd ever make, but Dwight was willing to take that chance to see the real world again. "That journal didn't give us much to go off of. Unless you understand what it says?"

Danny appeared in thought again before something clicked in Dwight's head. That cube in the mines. He recalled the journal saying something about a hexahedron. He headed back to the lounge where he'd left the journal and flipped it open until he found the entry. Danny had followed, but Dwight didn't give much of a chance to say anything before speaking again.

"There was a cube in the mines. I think it was this hexahedron mention in this paragraph. It was floating above the Entity when I saw--"

"You didn't see the Entity down there."

"Huh?" Dwight knew what he saw, maybe Danny hadn't experienced the same thing he had, but Dwight was confident that the creature he saw wasn't anything natural, or potentially even from their plane of existence.

"No, you didn't." Danny pointed up at the ceiling. "The Entity is in the sky.”

Dwight's stomach turned to lead as his blood ran cold. If it hadn't been the Entity, Dwight feared that he might have stumbled across another one, confirming his train of thought from before. He hated even to consider that to be true, but Danny looked pretty sure in what he'd said.

"You said something about a cube?" Danny asked impatiently.

"Oh, the cube! I saw it floating above whatever that was down there."

Danny smirked. "Look at you getting into this, Mr. Holmes." Danny took the journal out of Dwight's hand and read over the entry. "So, you want to go back to the mines, is that it?"

That was the last thing Dwight wanted to do, but it was the only place where he thought they could even begin looking for clues to their escape. He only hoped the Entity, or whatever else was down there, wouldn't notice their presence.

"Why were we going there to begin with?" Dwight asked.

"To meet Evan, but the bastard was a no show." Danny wasn't angry, even if he sounded annoyed by being stood up at their rendezvous. "Let me check that burn before we go."

He stepped behind Dwight and waited for him to unbutton his dress shirt enough to lower it to the curve of his elbows. Even if they didn’t have medicine, Danny had continuously wanted to check if it’d healed over their time at the cabin. A part of Dwight wanted to believe it was because Danny cared about his well being, but he doubted as much when he recalled the journal saying it was more effective when the scab had sealed over, and the sigil was clearly visible on the surface.

Danny’s gloved hands were cold as he ran his fingertips along his shoulder blade, causing him to shiver. There wasn’t a reason for Danny to touch him, but Dwight didn’t mind so long as he didn’t decide to poke at the wound. The surrounding area was still tender, but his touch was gentle enough not to bother him.

“Good enough, let’s get a move on,” Danny said. He shoved the journal into the deep pocket on the inside of his leather coat.

Dwight glanced at the pocket as he buttoned his shirt, then followed him back into what used to be the hallway. Danny’s magic tricks always took him off guard. He wondered if the others had the same ability, or he had somehow acquired some skill from the Alchemist like everything else he had.

"How do you do that?" Dwight decided to ask once they'd walked through the woods of the Macmillan Estate.

"Do what?"

"Go wherever you want."

"Oh, that. I kissed the Entity's ass enough that she gave me some of her power, but it's not permanent. We’re connected, kind of. As long as I have that…" He trailed off, stopping in his tracks while looking ahead of them.

The elevator had been boarded up and disassembled since their last usage. Machinery parts laid strewn about like someone let their child take it apart to see the inner workings. Dwight dared to peek inside, expecting to see a swarm of tendrils slithering their way to the surface, but saw nothing but bottomless darkness.

“Well, shit.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck and peered down the shaft. “Not getting back in this way.”

“I think I know of another way,” Dwight said, confident that the other entrance still existed.

———

The bodies of David, Jake, and Zarina were still in front of the ancient tree. Skin and eyes picked clean by the crows; they'd received the sky burial that David always feared was a reality. He tried not to look at their decomposing, unrecognizable corpses. If Dwight hadn't known where they'd been, or what they were wearing, he doubted he'd be able to identify them.

The smell was the worst part. Dwight felt sick to his stomach, but kept walking, swallowing the bile that tried to rise to his throat. He'd never considered the possibility that their bodies stayed in the trial, he'd merely assumed the Entity collected them the same as she did when they died on the sacrificial hooks. Taken into the sky and devoured whole, or sucked dry of whatever sustenance she needed to survive.

“She just leaves us here?” Dwight asked, choking back a mournful sob as he covered his mouth, refusing to show Danny any more vulnerability than he already had. But, those were his friends lying in the dirt, and no matter how tough Dwight wanted to be, it pained him more than anything to see what had become of them. He attempted to remind himself that they were back at the bonfire, playing a game of cards or telling stories and that those bodies on the ground were just the shedding of their previous life.

“Try not to look at it,” Danny said, retrieving the discarded flashlight Dwight had tried to use against the Shape.

Danny continued towards their destination, the old building where Dwight believed he’d escaped the mines. It wasn’t much further, according to Danny, who knew the layout better than him.

As Dwight moved closer to Zarina's corpse, he noticed a roll of faded yellow paper. It hadn't been visible until the birds had pulled her body around, likely fighting over who got what piece, but it was unmistakably a map. Dwight figured it had to have been what was inside the chest back at the warehouse. Dwight carefully reached over her to grab hold of the map and peeled it out from beneath her limp arm, which bounced against the dirt as it fell.

Dwight coughed, choking on the smell as it assaulted his olfactory senses. He pinched his nose with his free hand and backed away before taking in a much needed deep breath of fresh air. There was nothing like the stench of death: putrescine and pungent, yet somehow sickenly sweet at the same time.

Danny, who had stopped to observe him, had started snickering ahead of him. He must have found his reaction amusing, but not everyone has the bad luck of running into a decaying body even once in their life, let alone making them. Dwight decided to ignore him and folded the map small enough to fit in his pocket before continuing after him.

The building had been where Danny had said it would be. Old blood coagulated around a bear trap at the top of the steps in the back of the first room, with bits of flesh still attached to the metal teeth. Dwight's stomach lurched, and he almost vomited for the second time within the hour. He wasn't used to it, despite the fact he saw deaths often.

The bear trap was confirmation that the horror he'd experienced had been real. It hadn't been a hallucination, nor a dream. Dwight had hoped that by coming back to the mines, he could disprove it. But, something was lurking beneath MacMillan. And according to Danny, it wasn't the Entity. He prayed he was wrong.

"Dwight, I forgot to give you this back at the cabin," Danny said, removing a necklace from beneath his robes. He handed over a golden amulet in the shape of a distorted star with an open flame eye in the middle. It was attached to a black cord, rough in texture, not unlike old leather. "Don't lose this."

"What is it?" Dwight's hand was shaking uncontrollably, but he took the amulet and placed it around his neck. He lifted the amulet to look it over closer, not recognizing the shape from any of the pages of the Alchemist's journal.

"Keep it close. Don't make me regret giving it to you."

"I will. What is it for?"

"I don't know. But it's important. If the Entity kills me, you can keep it," Danny said casually. Dwight's chest twisted with the guilt of dragging him out there. Then he looked at his mask. There was no sense in worrying about a serial killer who never felt sorry for his victims.

Danny flicked on the flashlight and descended the stairs. Dwight followed, careful not to slip on the trails of blood along the steps. The recollection of what had transpired invaded his mind like a parasitic videotape. It was hard to focus on Danny's silhouette in front of him, bending and fading in and out as if a vision were flashing before his very eyes, warning him to turn back. Maybe they were making a mistake coming back.

Feeling light-headed, Dwight grabbed hold of his arm for support. Danny paused, turned, and looked at him with the flashlight pointed in his direction.

"What?" He asked.

"It's nothing," Dwight lied, blinking away the blur from his eyes. "Can I hold the light?"

Danny handed over the flashlight without complaint, and Dwight breathed a sigh of relief. That was until Danny moved Dwight to the front, and nudged him to start walking. Dwight internally groaned as he pointed the flashlight ahead and descended the last of the steps.

They walked down a stone tunnel for what seemed like an eternity, and Dwight couldn't recall coming through the path they were on, but it was the only one they'd seen. He hadn't been in the right state of mind while running away, so he forgave himself if he'd been too disoriented to map out his retreat.

Retrieving the map from his pocket, he unfolded it, shining the light over the page that glittered from old gold acrylic paint. He waited for it to map out the mineshaft, temple, or whatever else it could have been they were inside. Hoping that it would work its magic as it would in the trials, and show them the locations of essential things.

The path became more uneven and slanted as they walked, following the route which appeared on the map. Dwight couldn’t tell where it was taking them, shifting in appearance and highlighting a red line across the page, which would move abruptly to another spot.

“Wait,” Danny whispered, stopping in his tracks and looking over his shoulder.

Dwight paused, straining his ears and eyes for whatever Danny was currently trying to hear or see behind them. He could only hear the faint sound of dripping water and the natural ambiance of the tunnel.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s following us.”

They watched and listened through the dark for only another second until Dwight noticed the bare footsteps headed down the tunnel. 

Shining the light down the corridor, it wasn't long before a pair of muddy, misshapen feet were visible, and a cloaked humanoid figure approached with slow purpose. A multitude of tendrils snaked out from the sleeves of the cloaked robe, slimy, yet somehow ashen in texture as they wriggled inches above the floor. Something writhed beneath the thing's hood, slithering along with the cloth like a bundle of worms. It wore a stone mask shaped like the head of a spider, and it's stench permeated the air.

It wasn't alone. A batrachian, winged fiend, clawed its way along the wall beside the cloaked person. A turbid substance dripped from its fanged mouth, and it hissed in their direction when it noticed their presence. Hiss wasn't the right word, but the tumultuous, ear-piercing sound the shrieking horror let out was uncomparable to anything he'd ever heard. The creature scaled upwards and onto the ceiling as Dwight watched it in frozen terror. He wanted to scream and run, but couldn't persuade his legs to move from their spot.

“Danny?” Dwight managed to exhale with a passing breath.

"I don't know," he replied. Dwight could almost hear the alarm in his hushed voice. "We have to go. Now."

Danny bolted down the corridor, and Dwight wasted no time in chasing after him, encouraged by his strength to flee. He could hear the winged creature begin to give chase on the ceiling, snarling like a rabid dog after it's prey.

Dwight could barely keep up with his stamina, Danny had always been much faster than him. He wouldn't ask him to slow down, that wasn't an option, but Danny wouldn't have much light at the rate he was going. Considering what had been lurking behind, there was no telling what else waited ahead.

Dwight's lungs felt ready to explode, but he couldn't stop, pushing himself to the limit as he felt the hot breath of the creature right above him, dripping saliva like a light rain. Something grabbed his leg and pulled it out from under him, dragging him along the concrete until the beast pounced on top and pinned him to the floor with it's heavy clawed hands. Dwight attempted to hold it back as it bit into his neck and shoulder. He cried out as the fangs pierced through his flesh, and a burning shock split through his body.

The beast suddenly pulled away, ripping at his skin as it's body flung about a meter back. It scrambled to its feet with a snarl but kept its distance. The liquid around his teeth was now glowing orange.

Dwight was pulled from the ground by Danny before he had time to focus on what had happened. He scrambled to his feet and ran after him, knocked from his stupor. As they reached an end of the corridor, Danny pulled him into a room as the beast made chase not far behind. Its presumed master took its time, casually following them.

Slamming the steel door shut, they latched it with a bolt lock. Dwight flinched back when the beast slammed against the door, trying to knock it down to no avail. However, it was only a matter of time.

“You alright?” Danny asked, trying to catch his breath as he held his mask in his hand.

"I think so," Dwight panted, touching his wounded shoulder, thankful it hadn't done worse damage or bitten into the still painful injury on his back. "Thanks for coming back for me."

"Sure." 

Danny squatted down to the floor, and Dwight took a moment to look at where they'd ended up. It was a generator room, a large machine covered half the wall on the left with jerry cans beside it. They stood on a rusty steel platform that was barely wide enough for the two of them, and there was a matching steel ladder that led into what may have been the abyss itself.

Dwight looked at Danny, who was now sitting on the floor and watching him. Both of them knew they had no choice but to descend, and neither of them bothered to say what the other was already thinking.


	11. Chapter 11

Without any discussion or planning ahead, Danny took the lead and climbed down the ladder, with or without Dwight. Not wanting to be left behind, Dwight followed with a pit the size of a meteor in his stomach. It'd been long enough that the two realized the monsters weren't going to get through the steel door.

The beast had ceased its fruitless assault on the thick door, and either left or went to look for another entrance. Wherever it had gone, Dwight was glad it was. He hoped they would finally catch a break, but nothing ever went as planned when the one in control could intercept their every movement.

The ladder sounded with each step as they descended into the cold, dark hole. At the bottom, it smelt foul, like old sewage baked in the sun at the end of a drain.

"Careful," Danny said, taking hold of Dwight's waist to ease him down from the rickety ladder. "Watch your step."

“Thanks.”

Once his feet were planted safely on the ground, the ladder snapped in two from above. Danny pulled Dwight away from the ladder as it collapsed, hitting the floor with a thunderous bang and erupting into a cloud of rust-colored particles.

"You alright?" Danny asked, holding Dwight close.

Dwight nodded as he tried to calm his racing heart. "Guess we were too heavy."

"Guess so."

Danny removed his hands from Dwight's waist but stayed nearby as Dwight moved closer to where the ladder had been. The good news was now that the ladder was gone, the likely hood of being followed down was slimmer. The thought allowed Dwight to relax somewhat, but they now had another problem; getting back out.

"What were those things?" Dwight asked, looking to Danny for answers.

“What do you mean?” Danny retrieved the flashlight from his jacket and shined it down the cylinder-shaped tunnel behind them.

“Those monsters.”

“Can’t argue with you there; Doc is pretty damn ugly.”

Taken aback, Dwight tried to remember if he'd heard any laughter or hum of electricity during the encounter. There hadn't been any. The Doctor created all sorts of hallucinations, but they'd never been that vivid in the trials. Touching one would dispel the illusion, but that creature had bitten into him without fading away. 

Feeling his shoulder, Dwight felt a dull ache just beneath the surface, but there was no wound.

"Madness is his specialty,” Danny said. “Whatever you saw, wasn’t real.”

“Maybe.” Dwight rubbed the goosebumps that formed along his arms, unsure of what to believe anymore.

"I fucked up by helping you," Danny said callously. "If the Entity didn't know I was a traitor, she does now."

“So, what do we do?” Dwight asked, feeling guilty, but knew Danny made that choice all on his own.

Danny shrugged. There was no telling what the consequences for what they were doing would be once the Entity did get her claws on them. Dwight shuddered at the thought of what the Entity was capable of, presuming that the trials were only a taste of what she could do.

"Hey," Danny said so softly he almost didn't hear it. He cupped Dwight's cheek and looked him in the eyes. "I'll keep you safe."

“Why are you protecting me?” Dwight asked after a few seconds of silence, expecting the same response he’d gotten when he’d asked why he was helping him.

“You know why.”

Dwight sighed, closing his eyes for just a moment before he moved away from his touch.

“I know. We should, um, get going.”

——

Old, rusty signs pointed them in the direction of something called b32. The further they walked, the more it began to look like an underground bunker. The lights were on, and Danny no longer needed the flashlight, so he pocketed it and pulled closed the valved steel door behind them. It squealed as the wheel turned, securing itself back into the closed position they'd found it.

There was a hallway shaped like a cross with three rooms on each side of the hall, each containing steel, glass framed cabinets, and old cots.

“Any idea where we are?” Dwight asked.

“No. I didn’t know this was here.”

It looked to be an infirmary of some sort, possibly meant for the workers injured on the job. Considering the place was surrounded in a deep forest, Dwight doubted a hospital was close by, and they probably had to do what they could with what was available.

The sheets and pillows were stained yellow with age, and the smell of dust and something that smelt of a strong chemical covered every inch of the room. On the floor were a bunch of broken bottles that had fallen from the cabinet's ajar door. The liquid had partly eaten away at the ground, leaving a hole the size of a fist where concrete used to be.

After entering another room, it had nothing but two twin beds on separate ends of the room, both with wooden chests located at their feet.

There was nothing of interest in the first, but in the second was something that made Dwight feel nostalgic. He retrieved the random items before setting them aside. Pocket watch, a matchless flashlight, and other memorabilia such as photos that were so old he could barely make out the image anymore. The date on the back suggested it was from the 1910s, but the last number was too worn to tell what it had been. He knew he shouldn’t linger, but Dwight couldn’t help but sate his curiosity.

Moving aside some moth-eaten clothes, he found an old revolver etched with unknown symbols and some bullets that tumbled from the fabric and bounced against the bottom of the chest. His heart soared at the thought of having an actual weapon to use; however, the cylinder was rusted and caked with grime and dirt; it wouldn’t fire without proper maintenance.

It'd been years since he'd cleaned and polished one, but he was sure he could figure it out once he had it in front of him. He'd seen his father do it many times, and the memory resurfaced like a flash of light. His father sat at a picnic table in their yard with the pieces of a revolver separated on an old towel, explaining what each part was and where it went. He'd always found the lessons boring, barely paying attention to the words he was saying because Dwight had been a child who wanted to play with his dad, not attend a gun class.

Dwight ran his finger along the rough edge of the gun. He hadn't seen his father since grade school, but he immediately recognized the face of Nathan Palmer now that the man in his memories wore it.

His father, whose name was Henry Fairfield, not Nathan Palmer, had an obsessive interest in anything western to the point he'd spend every dime they had on stuff they didn't need. He'd said they told a story, and stories were keepsakes you could pass on for a millennium. His explanations as to why he spent thousands at auctions didn't hold up in divorce court, and Dwight recalled him being more upset to lose his antiques than he was to lose his family.

It took a lot to push down the rising resentment from nearly fifteen years ago, but he managed to return his focus on the present. There was no reason that a miner would carry a firearm in a place where any irregularity in the environment could cause a cave-in. The clothes also didn't match that of a mineshaft worker; they were too clean. Tied around a leather archaeologist's toolkit were suspenders and button-down shirts.

“What are you doing?” Danny asked with tired impatience.

Dwight flinched and turned to face him, still on edge. “I found a gun,” he said a little too fast.

“What’s a gun gonna do against a God?”

Dwight could feel his cheeks warming, but he pushed the shame back. There was nothing to feel embarrassed about; it was a good find regardless of whether it would work or not against her; the killers took damage and bled. It was better than what they currently had up their sleeve, which was desperate prayers, and half-baked schemes that got them into more trouble than helped their situation.

"Nothing because it's broken," Dwight all but snapped with growing irritation at the way Danny talked down to him. "But I feel better knowing we have it." Dwight used the clothes to wipe some of the dirt from the cylinder and barrel before securing it through his belt and pocketed the loose rounds.

“We have a knife.”

“You have a knife,” Dwight corrected, handing over the photos. “There’s these, too.”

Without a glance, Danny shoved them into his pocket. "We should get going."

"Can I ask you something?" Dwight grabbed his wrist before he had a chance to leave the room. Danny looked at him but said nothing. It wasn't the time or the place, but Dwight was feeling brave and allowed himself to question Danny about something that'd been bothering him since the first time they stepped foot into his apartment. "You've been stalking me for a while. Before the Entity took me, haven't you?"

"Didn't know I'd been so obvious about it." Danny glared. The room felt more hostile, but Dwight didn't regret starting the confrontation.

"You weren't... Well, not until you re-created my apartment, anyway." Dwight rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from him. "I know we should go, but there's something that's been bothering me. That guy whose trailer you burnt down, why did you pick him?"

Danny crossed his arms. "I had my reasons."

"Did you know he was my dad?"

It took a moment before Danny eventually answered. "Your memories are coming back, that's good. Yeah, I knew."

Dwight nodded, still unable to make eye contact with him. "Bits and pieces are coming back. Ever since you started giving me that serum, I can see flashes of random events. Most don't make sense."

"What triggered this one?"

"The gun. Why did you involve my dad?"

"A life exchange, remember?"

A loud, massive crack of thunder erupted down the hall, reminding Dwight of the situation they were in, and he snapped to attention. The bolt hadn't reached them, but the sound resounded down the hall, vibrating his eardrums to a painful extent. He covered them and grit his teeth, looking at Danny, who'd already left the room, grabbing Dwight by the arm tight enough to bruise. Dwight winced, frustrated by the interruption and force as Danny led him down the hall.

The noise was getting louder, closer. The snap of the Doctor's charge sent a shiver down his spine, and any amount of security that remained was lost. His fingers tingled with the surge of electricity, and he quickened his pace to meet Danny's stride. It didn't matter where they ended up next, as long as he was nowhere nearby.

_So there really weren’t any monsters._ Dwight thought, surprised Danny had told the truth, but he was relieved to know that no Eldritch creatures were stalking the halls. But the Doctor was the last person he wanted to see.

Although terrifying in his own right, the Doctor was familiar, and he'd dealt with him before. The fear of the unknown was gone now that he knew the Doctor inflicted him with madness. The potential nests of beasts were a ridiculous concept that he was thankful wasn't real. However, it made him wonder if what he'd seen down there had been real in the first place. That colossal creature that forced him to stab himself from the auditory torture felt very real to Dwight, but so had the monsters above.

“In here,” Danny whispered after checking nearly half a dozen rooms before settling on one that had a functioning door.

The room contained a desk with a multitude of papers scattered along the top of it, and a steel cabinet with glass windows which contained bottles, vials, and jars of some unknown liquids and powders similar to the one in the previous room, minus the hole in the floor. They were labeled, but Dwight didn't bother to examine them, turning to face Danny at the door instead. He watched the hall through the slightly ajar door with a focused expression. He was going to get himself caught, but stealth was Danny's forte, so Dwight trusted he knew what he was doing.

“Any ideas?” Dwight whispered.

"Just one." He removed his knife from the sheathe. "I'm going to lure him away. When I do, you go back the way we came."

“I’m not abandoning you.”

“It’s not up for debate.”

Dwight held his tongue before he said something he'd regret. Even if he'd started to feel relaxed in Danny's presence, Dwight didn't want to risk pissing him off. Not after calling him out just minutes earlier.

“There you are, you ugly sack of shit,” Danny muttered under his breath. He turned to look at Dwight before pulling the door open and left the room, closing it behind him.

With a heavy exhalation through his nostrils, Dwight leaned back against the desk. The gun pressed into his skin, reminding him of its ineffective existence. If only it'd been in working condition, he could make himself useful, though he doubted it'd do much against the juggernaut when he could charge up and drop them both like bugs. Even if it didn't solve anything, the thought of putting a bullet into the Doctor, to return some of the pain, brought a smile to his face. When he realized what he was doing, Dwight's expression dropped, startled by his immoral thoughts. Danny was the only explanation, he'd been with him too long that his personality was beginning to creep into his mind, little by little. At least, Dwight wanted to believe that was the truth. Deep down, he knew he had a darker side, just like the others. And if Dwight were going to be of any help to Danny, Dwight would need to stop being such a pacifist. A cowardly one at that; after all, he couldn't die, and he was used to the pain. Taking advantage of it would only make sense.

_"There has to be something I can use here."_

Looking around the room, he knew he needed to find something that could help both of them get out of there and far away from the Doctor. 

There was something more profound in the mines' depths, and Dwight wanted to uncover its secrets. Time and opportunity were in his grasp, and he'd never be able to forgive himself if he let the others down by running away with his tail tucked between his legs. It wasn't just his and Danny's lives on the line. It didn't matter the kind of person Danny was or used to be; Dwight wasn't going to desert him and leave him for whatever fate awaited the killers who died in the Entity's realm. And even though he was terrified, Dwight knew he had to find the courage to fight against one of his worst nightmares.

A bottle among the dozen or so in the cabinet grabbed his attention. It contained a transparent liquid with a caution label stickered on the front. He didn’t know what Nu-Cidex meant, but Dwight doubted it’d feel good to have it come in contact with your skin if it had a warning sticker. That gave him an idea.

Taking the bottle from the shelf, he was careful not to knock any of the others over. Next was the hard part, convincing himself out the door. He could hear a scuffle happening on the other side, and the occasional thump or slam of a heavy object.

Electricity slipped beneath the door, almost causing Dwight to lose his grip on the bottle in surprise as the current licked at his ankles. Dwight covered his mouth and gritted his teeth to keep from screaming and giving away his location; however, Danny hadn't. His scream was cut short by the sound of a sickening crack that was so loud he could hear it through the closed door. Dwight's stomach dropped as he stepped closer to the door, reaching for the knob. It was now or never.

With every ounce of courage he could muster, Dwight ripped open the door and uncorked the bottle. The Doctor was only a few meters away, lifting his spiked stick high in the air to strike Danny again.

"Hey!" Dwight yelled as he ran towards him with the bottle now open.

The Doctor paused and turned to face him. His ever-grinning smile seemed to widen as he laughed at him and clenched his fist to charge another surge of electricity, but Dwight was quicker and splashed the chemical towards his exposed eyes, which were permanently held open by the device on his head.

They both let out a howl of pain as the Doctor discharged the current, and Dwight collapsed to his hand and knees as the empty bottle shattered on the ground in front of him. 

As the Doctor clawed at his sizzling face, he dropped to his knees with tumultuous screams of distress; his weapon dropped and forgotten as it rolled away from him. Dwight grabbed the stick as he dragged himself to his feet, rushing to Danny's crumpled body in the hall. He was conscious but dazed as Dwight helped him to stand. There was a lot of blood where he'd been laying, but he managed to walk by himself, albeit stumbling against the wall occasionally as they hurried down the hall to stretch the distance between them and their assailant.

They stumbled into one of the side rooms, closing the door as quietly as he could. If luck were on their side, the Doctor would be blinded by the chemical and unable to comb the area. 

"Fuck," Danny whispered, grabbing the side of his head, knees buckling. Dwight grabbed him, helping him keep his balance before he fell into anything, and directed him towards one of the two beds.

“Are you okay?” Dwight whispered, lifting Danny’s hand from his head so he could inspect the injury.

“Fucker hit me.”

It was difficult to tell the amount of damage due to the quantity of blood that matted his hair, but all he could do was stop the bleeding the best he could. There weren't any bandages left that weren't yellowed and stained. He didn't want to risk the wound becoming infected, so he put those out of mind and grabbed only the bottle of alcohol. There wasn't enough time or alcohol to sterilize them, and there was no telling what was on those bandages. He'd have to make his own for the time being.

Removing his hoodie first, then his shirt, he grabbed a pair of medical scissors from the cabinet and moved back to sit beside him, pulling up a chair. Danny's eyes were closed, his hand back over the wound. It was hard to see him like that, so Dwight kept his eyes on the shirt that he was cutting to ribbons.

From the hall, it sounded like the Doctor was hitting something repeatedly before roaring in anger. Dwight looked at the door, tense as he felt the hairs on his arms begin to stand on end. He knew what was coming and dropped the shirt and scissors, quickly covering Danny's mouth with his hands, and took the hit from the charge as quiet as he possibly could without muffling himself. Danny couldn't keep from crying out, but it wasn't as loud as it could have been. Dwight doubted the Doctor had heard over his assault on whatever he was beating, but he waited on edge for any sound of footsteps encroaching on their position.

Removing his hand from Danny's mouth, he gently shushed him before returning to making the bandages. Danny turned his head, swallowing a choked whimper that tore at Dwight's heart.

_Don’t pity him._ Dwight tried to tell himself, but his chest continued to ache with empathy.

"I can't feel it," Danny muttered, watching Dwight work with half-lidded eyes. "She took it back."

"Took what back?"

Another strike against the wall outside made him flinch, but thankfully it wasn't close. He tried to ignore it as he carefully lifted Danny's head to begin wrapping it, praying that the killers' wounds also healed on their own in the realm. He knew he should've cleaned it with water first, but there was none anywhere nearby, stopping the bleeding was the biggest priority anyway.

"My power," he said once Dwight had finished. "It's gone."

Dwight frowned, looking down at Danny, whose eyes had closed.

"I'm gonna get us out of here," Dwight said once he'd secured the cloth together with safety pins. "You saved me; now it's my turn."

They'd have to stay there until Danny was able to get around on his own. They would only be putting themselves into danger if they tried to go out in his condition. Dwight sat back in the chair and sighed gently. He watched Danny's troubled expression, but there wasn't anything more he could say or do for him.

If the Entity had taken his power away, that made everything more complicated than it had already been from the start. They were already at a disadvantage against the Entity and her minions, but now it felt impossible.


	12. Chapter 12

Dwight tried to stay awake, keeping a watchful eye on Danny who'd drifted off to sleep more than once as it were. At the moment, he was conscious, aware, and seemed to be recovering. If the Entity's realm brought any good, it was the lack of needing any real medical care. Give it time, and the wounds heal themselves right up, although the pain lingered like an invisible phantom.

The Doctor had wandered off somewhere down the hall, where they'd entered the bunker. They hadn't heard a peep out of him in hours, but that didn't mean he wasn't still within proximity, searching for them with unbridled rage.

It was freezing in the room, even with his hoodie pulled back on to escape the chill, he still had to massage some warmth into his arms to keep the bones from hurting. He missed the snug fire back at the cabin, pleasant and safe with nothing to worry about except whether or not Danny would decide to kill him. Although, now he'd begun to wonder if Danny was a threat to him at all. Now that Danny was hurt, he didn't know where to go or what to do. All he knew for sure was that he didn't want to leave his side.

He didn't understand why he felt so attached to him, but he had started to see him in a different light since they'd been together. Danny was more than his enemy; however, he didn't know if he could call him a friend. He hated him for everything he’d done over the years, yet he still worried about his safety. The conflicting emotions weighed heavy on Dwight as he watched Danny begin to stir, then try to sit up. Dwight eased him back down to the mattress by the shoulders.

"I'm fine," Danny huffed.

"No, you're not," Insisted Dwight, sitting on the edge of the bed to make sure he didn't try that again. Danny rolled his eyes. “Do you have your license on you?”

"I don't know. Probably. Why?"

"So I can quiz you. You know, in case of a concussion?"

"Shouldn't you have thought to do that earlier? I said I'm fine."

Now that Danny was more alert, Dwight figured now was a good time to check how bad his concussion was. There was no doubt in his mind that Danny indeed had one after how powerful the impact had been. It was a miracle he hadn't died on the spot.

When Danny didn't bother to retrieve his license like he'd asked, Dwight decided to do it himself. There was no resistance from the other as he undid Danny's jacket, and judging by the smirk which crept upon his smooth lips, Danny welcomed it.

“What?” Dwight asked.

“It’s in my back pocket. But, if you want to tear my clothes off, I won’t stop you.”

Dwight smiled, exhaling a laugh through his nostrils.

After retrieving the wallet himself from his back pants pocket, Danny handed Dwight the thick, aged leather bundle. Among many notes of his victims' addresses and behaviors, inside was about thirty dollars, a video membership card, and his license that said he was from Utah. If the driver's license belonged to him, that is. Dwight found it difficult to believe he would carry his real identity when he went to stalk anyone. Especially in costume. Among the incriminating evidence held within the wallet, dropping it at a crime scene, it was a dangerous decision waiting to sentence him to life in prison. However, it was Danny in the picture, if the date of birth were correct, Danny was younger than Dwight initially thought. He was in his early to mid-thirties, and not in his late thirties to early forties as he'd assumed.

"Admiring my handsome face?"

Dwight lifted his eyes from the license, confused before he understood what Danny had said to him. He had been staring at the image, but he hadn't realized Danny was watching him so intently to notice.

"What year were you born in?" Dwight replaced the items into the wallet and willed away the anxiety building in his chest.

"1990 something."

Danny was wrong. He was born in the early 80s, and unless the card's information was incorrect, he wasn't a 90s kid like himself.

"What state are you from?"

Danny pinched his brows together in thought as he searched the ceiling for an answer. "Utah. Provo if you want to be specific. My memory is fine, Dwight."

"Then how do you not remember the year you were born?"

"Never did. Hell, I don't know my age, either. Stopped giving a shit a long time ago."

Though the quiz may have proven pointless, Dwight was satisfied with the information he'd been able to get from Danny with little difficulty.

Danny sat up with a groan, but Dwight didn't attempt to stop him this time. He was merely inches away from Dwight now, and he considered leaving the bed but decided to stay where he was. His presence was beginning to make him feel at ease, even at the distance that he was.

"I'm sorry I got you into this mess," Danny said after a moment of silence. He gazed at Dwight with a doleful expression that made his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. There was no question in his mind now, Dwight knew for sure the Doctor had knocked more than a few screws loose.

"You're…" He trailed off with a sigh, unsure of what he wanted to say to him. What was there he could say? He wasn't going to forgive him, but he didn't entirely blame him for the situation they were in, either.

"I'm going to kiss you," Danny whispered, tenderly gripping Dwight's chin between his thumb and index fingers.

Their eyes met for only a moment before Danny began to lean towards him with caution, and removed Dwight's glasses. Unsure, but curious, Dwight closed the gap as his eyes fluttered shut, and their lips met with hesitant anticipation. Clumsy, but heartfelt at first, their lips soon found a slower, smoother rhythm, a gentle but sensual dance where their mouths refused to part from the long, deep, and satisfying connection. As he rolled his tongue along with Danny's, he tasted slightly aromatic warmth. He shyly tried to mimic the movements while Danny's hand slid to the crook of his neck and guided Dwight to lie on top of him.

When the kiss came to a crawl, they parted with their lips barely touching one anothers, breathing in each other's air as they caught their breath, and he felt dizziness he could only describe as euphoric.

Propping himself up, he peered down at Danny, whose deep-set brown eyes seemed to travel along every inch of his face, taking him in. Dwight found himself doing the same, admiring his features before a sudden, grief-filled realization overcame him.

"I thought I was going to lose you," Dwight whispered. The sound of his voice cracking made his chest tighten with sorrow. He kept replaying the scene in his head for what felt like the dozenth time since they'd been in the room, yet refused to acknowledge the truth.

Without a word, Danny wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in close. It wasn't comfort Dwight had been looking for, but he gratefully accepted the protective hug, resting his head against him.

——

Dwight jerked awake from the sound of a dull, resounding thump. Looking around the now pitch dark room, he strained his ears, but could only hear the sound of Danny breathing. His chest rose and fell under his hand, signally that he had fallen asleep. Dwight didn't remember drifting off after lying down with him, but due to the amount of exhaustion he felt in his body, he wasn't surprised.

"Danny." Dwight shook his chest gently to wake him.

"I'm up," he said. "Sounded like something fell in the hall."

Sitting up, they both listened as Danny flicked on the flashlight to illuminate the room. It was still the same, nothing out of the ordinary, but the lights had shattered, raining shards of soda-lime glass on the floor.

"What do you think it was?" Dwight asked, watching him in the partially illuminated dark.

"Dunno. If Doc's recovered, we don't want to be here, though."

"What about your head? Are you okay?"

Danny sounded weak, his eyes were bloodshot where a vessel had burst, pupils dilated, and he looked anything but ready to go anywhere, but they didn't have much choice but to take that risk.

"Good enough. Let's get out of here."

The empty hallway was eerily still and quiet. Danny's bloodstain was where it had been earlier, but it looked wrong, almost as if it was struggling to remain in that dimension. Dwight didn't know what that meant, but it couldn't be a good sign. Choosing to ignore it, Dwight fiddled with the amulet around his neck, anxiety building to the brim now that he was no longer in the safety of a locked room. The lights in the hall had also blown due to the Doctor's electricity, shrouding the hallway in complete darkness. Gripping the spiked stick he'd stolen from the Doctor, Dwight crept carefully down the hall, his free hand firmly holding Danny's hand. Knowing they wouldn't get separated if he knew where he was at all times, helped ease his mind.

The putrid stench of chemicals lingered in the air, filling the claustrophobic hall with an unbearable smog stinging his lungs as they inched forward. The shattered glass from the jar cracked beneath his foot.

Dwight paused, and held his breath, listening intently for any suggestion that the Doctor had heard them.

When the coast appeared clear, Dwight exhaled and carefully maneuvered around the shattered container.

_Where am I even going?_ He wondered once he knew he was safe. He hadn't the foggiest idea where to even begin searching for an exit, but Danny offered no suggestions as he didn't know what to do, either.

Further down the hall, the smog had become more concentrated. Its consistency wasn't unlike the atmosphere of working around the deep fryers at his old fast-food job. He swore his lungs were full of grease by the end of his shift. The feeling wasn't exactly comparable to the current air quality, but it did make him worry about what they were breathing in.

Dwight's foot caught something big and bulky on the ground, nearly tripping over it, but Danny managed to pull him back before he fell.

"Careful," he said.

"Thanks. Something's on the floor."

Danny lowered the light to see a horrifying display of what used to be the Doctor.

_Is he dead?_ Dwight wondered, gripping the stick tighter. The Doctor didn’t respond as he nudged him with his foot, stiff and motionless without any sign of breathing.

The Doctor's face looked like a grotesque crime scene. His sunken eyes darted side to side, searching the ceiling for something, but didn't seem aware of their presence. A third eye had appeared on the side of his temple, milky-white half-covered in scathed flesh, and unmoving.

Dwight knelt in front of him, a twinge of guilt tugged at his heart, but he smothered it with the reminders of what he'd done to him. An overwhelming sense of resentment towards him emerged, and he glared at the Doctor.

_You deserved it._ He thought.

The Doctor’s third eye looked at him, holding him in his gaze, the pupil dilated so vastly he thought it was trying to pull him into the void. Goosebumps littered the back of Dwight’s neck and arms. He stood. There was no possible way that the Doctor had heard his thoughts. It was a coincidence. There’d been no evidence of him having the ability to read minds.

_It's just in your head._

“Look,” Danny said, shining the light on his lab coat’s front pocket.

A metal clip clung to the pocket, attached to something inside. Setting the spiked stick to the floor, Dwight reached for the item with caution. His fingers trembled as he pinched the metal clasp and lifted the thing from it’s hiding place. It was a key card with thick orange lines and a logo for an unknown corporation he didn’t recognize. There was no indication of where it went, but if the Doctor had it on his person, then it had to be something of importance.

The spiked stick scraped along the floor as Danny lifted the weapon. Dwight had a mere second to react before he brought it down against the Doctor's head with so much force it sounded like something exploded.

Startled, Dwight fell back on his bottom with a gasp, wide-eyed as he watched Danny begin to beat the Doctor with the stick relentlessly. Dwight's throat felt like it had closed up with sand, unable to speak and tell him to stop; he could do nothing but watch in panic as he struck the defenseless man on the floor.

When Danny had finished, he rested the stick against his shoulder and tried to catch his breath. Whatever had remained of the Doctor's face was no longer recognizable as a human in the slightest. Dwight couldn't stomach the sight. He turned away from him, vomiting against the wall.

"Fucker," Danny said, anger audibly detectable in the tone of his voice.

Dwight wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand. Adjusting his glasses that had slid down the bridge of his nose, he refused to look at the horrifying display. Eventually, Danny's footsteps started towards him, and Dwight could feel his warmth as he knelt beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder with a softness that didn't match his cruelty.

“Let’s go,” Danny said.

——

Dwight kept his distance from Danny, who seemed all too pleased with himself. As they made their way down the hall in search of an exit, Dwight noticed the newfound pep in Danny's step. A multitude of questions shuffled throughout his skull like a deck of cards, unsure if he should ask any of the ones he drew to the surface. Like a flipped switch, Danny had become the monster Dwight remembered.

_He hasn't hurt me in a long time._ Dwight reminded himself, not counting the burn. _He even saved me. Maybe he has changed?_

It was difficult to know for sure, and harder to trust he wouldn't eventually turn on him, too. He'd let him get too close, allowed him to manipulate him into believing he wasn't the malicious serial killer from the trials. It scared him, yet, he didn't care at the same time.

"You're awful quiet back there," Danny said.

Dwight lifted his eyes from the floor. "Did you have to… go that far?" 

Danny chuckled. "He was going to come after us eventually. Might as well make it harder for him to regenerate. Besides, it felt great to get some payback for what he did."

It was a good point, but Dwight wasn't foolish enough to believe that it was the entire truth. Maybe Danny thought he was above revenge, but the brutal assault had been just that. That much pent up rage had to stem from something more than just retaliation. He couldn't recall how long it'd been since Danny had killed someone; he hadn't mentioned any recent trials he'd participated in, and Dwight had mostly been with him. An addict needs their fix eventually, and Dwight was just glad he hadn't decided to make him the target.

"Where do you think the key card goes?" Dwight decided it was better to change the topic, staring at the messy spiked stick still laid against Danny's shoulder.

"Probably however he got—"

Thunderous and fast footsteps encroached on them from down the hall, silencing Danny as they both whipped around just in time to see Danny's thin frame slammed against the wall by the brutish, headless body of the Doctor. There was nowhere to run, and even less time to react as the Doctor's body ignited into a surge of electricity so powerful it immediately burned Dwight's retinas, blinding him as the excruciating agony of being electrocuted by the powerful current ripped through his body. His muscles clenched and tightened until he could no longer remain conscious, and he knew this was it.

He was going to die.

——

The intoxicating scent of burning wood and smoke welcomed him back to life. Dwight listened to the comforting sound of the logs sizzling and popping as the fire ate away at the bark. He dug his fingertips into the damp, cold dirt beneath him, and breathed in the chilly night air. Relaxed, he didn't want to open his eyes to see where he'd ended up, but knew he had to.

It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the moonlit darkness and warm glow illuminating the survivor's campground. His eyes burned from the abuse they'd taken from the electricity, but he blinked through it, peering up at Claudette, who sat beside him. She had a mournful expression as she peered off to her right of her, oblivious to anything but whatever had her attention.

_Where’s Danny?_

"Claudette?" Dwight said, his voice scratchy.

Claudette’s head snapped to attention; her frown turned into a beaming smile that lightened the somber mood. Throwing her arms around him, she pulled him in a tight and secure embrace. Dwight winced, finding it painful, but he was happy to see her again.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said.

A lump formed in Dwight’s sore, irritated throat as he tried not to cry from the overwhelming relief he felt being out of that bunker. Wrapping his arms around his friend, he savored the comforting moment before it inevitably ended.

When Claudette pulled away, she removed her glasses and wiped her brimming tears from her eyes before putting them back on again, looking at him as if she had a million questions on her mind, but asked none of them.

Dwight heard a commotion in the direction Claudette had been looking, but he couldn't see anything through the trees as he lifted himself from the ground to sit beside her. Across from them at the bonfire, a handful of people he didn't recognize stared into the flames with haunted expressions.

"How long was I gone?" 

"A year..."


	13. Chapter 13

A whole year had passed, yet it felt like merely a few months at most. It shouldn’t surprise him, but it always did throw Dwight for a loop whenever his brain realized that time was simply an illusion in the fog. There were fewer people than he’d initially thought sitting at the campfire, three new faces, and his father, but what struck him as odd was that he recognized no one but Claudette, Kate, and David.

“Where is everyone?” He wondered aloud, offering the question to Claudette, who still sat beside him.

“Gone.” She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them.

“They’re gone?”

Claudette nodded, but Dwight didn’t push the subject further. He knew what she meant. It still hurt.

\--

A makeshift tent made of rebar and a blue tarp had been Dwight’s home for his stay in the fog. Inside was the same, left untouched by the others who understood the unspoken rules. They didn’t have much, so what they did was essential to feeling a sense of normality in their unfortunate circumstance, like a prisoner with photos of loved ones taped to the wall; a little something to make hell feel a little bit more like home. Letting the flap of the tent fall back in place behind him, he sighed. It didn’t feel like home. Not that it ever did in the first place.

The revolver weighed heavy in his hand as he removed it from his waistband. Even if the gun worked, the Doctor’s suicidal kamikaze would’ve killed them regardless. Every inch of progress they made, it felt like the killers were on another level entirely when it came to power. Still, Henry was there, that was a good sign. The gun could theoretically become useful if they could repair it. And then what, shoot the sky?

Dwight tossed the gun onto a bear rug that he’d turned into a bed, with a barely audible thud. It wasn’t the only item to make it back with him; the amulet still hung around his neck; it weighed heavier than it had before and smelt like burnt chlorine. The only item missing was the keycard. He doubted the Doctor had much of a body left to take it back, but it certainly wasn’t anywhere on his person.

“Dwight?”

The sound of Danny’s fatigued voice outside his tent caused Dwight’s heart to clench with woebegone confusion. He flung open the flap, expecting to see him beaten to a pulp, but he looked good, if not exhausted, and worn down.

Dwight stared at him, dumbfounded for only a moment before his instincts kicked in. Dwight carefully pulled him into the tent by the arm before anyone saw him. Danny lay on the rug, turning over with a groan as if each tiny movement took every ounce of strength he had left to endure.

“Are you okay?” Moving the gun aside, Dwight sat next to him, checking him over for any signs of new injuries. There was nothing, not even the head wound, just the bags under his eyes where he looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“I’m fine,” Danny said, but the sharp intake of breath when he moved betrayed his honesty. “Just hurts like a mother to breathe.”

Dwight figured Danny must have taken the majority of the current if the pain of his death still plagued his body. It was strange that Dwight felt nothing, but he didn’t question it, considering it another miracle rather than wish he were suffering like Danny.

“How did you get here?” Dwight asked once Danny appeared to be more comfortable.

“I guess this is my sentence. At least it’s with you.”

“Don’t say that,” Dwight said, close to scolding him for saying something so stupid, not to mention cheesy. “So, what do we do now?”

“Nothing. Not unless Evan’s been busy behind the scenes. We’re stuck here.”

“So, that’s it?” Dwight couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re just giving up?”

“I already got what I wanted.”

“You didn’t _get_ anything, Danny.”

Dwight didn’t stick around to listen to whatever else he had to say. He didn’t want to hear it. After everything they’d been through, everything Danny had put him through, Dwight didn’t want to believe it was for nothing. There had to be a way out; they’d been so close to something, he could feel it in every fiber of his being. There was something they’d missed, a vital piece of the puzzle was still left unsolved.

Dwight made his way into the forest, deep in thought as he wandered around the area he knew was safe. Jaw and fist clenched, he entered into a small clearing before he eventually came to a stop. Sucking in a cold, deep breath to calm his nerves, Dwight felt his anger beginning to subside, if only by a little.

_I don’t need him_ He leaned against one of the trees, looking towards the sea of stars, moon and swirling fog where the Entity no doubt lived in the sky. _Why doesn’t she just kill us?_ He wondered, however, the answer was obvious. He still had hope. If Danny was still alive, then that meant he hadn’t given up.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Dwight started to think that perhaps he’d made an assumption too soon. Danny was hurting; he didn’t want to come up with a new plan and try again, especially so shortly after the Doctor had obliterated them so easily. Dwight regretted walking out on him, but he couldn’t convince his feet to move from their spot. It felt nice being near the open sky, even with a bloodthirsty god hovering meters above their heads.

“What you doin’ out here?” Dwight turned to see Henry at the edge of the clearing, an empty mason jar in his hand, and a suspicious look on his face. His expression lightened a few moments later, replaced with what looked to be a light bulb moment. “Wait, you’re the kid from that night, aren’t you?”

“Um, yeah. My name’s Dwight.”

A part of him hoped his dad would recognize him, but what good would it do either of them in the end? Henry made sure to destroy any chance of it over ten years ago, and Dwight had enough on his plate. He didn’t have the time, or the desire, to rekindle the long-dead embers of a father-son relationship.

“No kidding? My boy’s name is Dwight. Name’s Nathan Palmer, by the way.”

Dwight feigned an amused laugh. “What a coincidence.”

“Hey, so, I wanna thank you for what you did.” Henry was already making his way towards him, motioning towards the other side of the clearing. “Come on, let me show you.”

Dwight wasn’t so sure about following him, but he didn’t want to head back to camp to face Danny quite yet. Just the thought of trying to talk to him again got his feet moving, sticking with Henry until they came across an old cabin. Or it used to be a cabin; the forest had since reclaimed its natural environment from anything modern, leaving a marginal amount of space to access the interior.

Inside was a homemade copper distillery for producing moonshine. Dwight recognized the scent of yeast as Henry took up one of the mason jars from the counter.

“This is my little home away from hell,” he said. “Help yourself. Tested them, they burn blue.”

“Burn blue?” Dwight stayed where he was, recalling the last time he had moonshine and the unfortunate events that followed. He rubbed his throat absentmindedly, but his dad’s voice retrieved him from the flashback.

“If hooch burns any other color, I wouldn’t drink it.” Henry unsealed the cap and took a swig before offering it forward. “It ain’t much, but I made it myself with what we got.”

Against his better judgment, Dwight took his offer and brought the jar to his lips. He paused, hesitated, then took a drink. The drink was smooth but far too strong as Dwight felt the alcohol affecting his head seconds after touching his tongue. He’d always been a lightweight when it came to drinking, but moonshine was another beast. Dwight preferred moonshine flavored and diffused, but he couldn’t be picky. After taking a second swig of the shine, a burning sensation ran up the back of his throat and stung his eyes and sinuses from the strength of the alcohol.

“You’re not new to it, are you?” Henry chuckled. “How old are you anyway, kiddo?”

“Twenty-five.” He didn’t know if that was his real age, but it was the last birthday he remembered having, and as far as he could tell, he hadn’t aged since he arrived. Dwight winced and cleared his throat, handing him back the jar with little interest in having thirds. He wasn’t feeling it yet, but Dwight knew he would before too long. Two shots were more than he should have drunk, but after everything he’d endured so far, he figured why not. Dwight wanted to trust and perhaps bond with his dad. Maybe even give him a second chance if he could prove he wasn’t still the same old asshole.

“Young,” Henry said, tossing back another swig. “You ever fired a gun before?”

“No.”

Henry laughed. “I noticed you had a gun on you when you were out cold. Does it work?”

Dwight shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s filthy, and the cylinder doesn’t come out.”

“Hand it here. A little spit-shine, you bet your damn ass I can turn the tables.”

“I don’t have it on me. It’s back at camp.”

“Too bad.”

The room fell quiet as Henry took several swigs of the moonshine. Dwight was impressed by his ability to stay conscious. He eyed the mason jar, noting that it didn’t appear to be getting any emptier as Henry lowered it again. A foreboding atmosphere washed over him, and he decided to trust his gut on this one. Something wasn’t right with him.

“I should get back,” Dwight said, keeping his voice as still as possible and made his way to the exit. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Why were you out there that night, Dwight?”

Dwight paused, hesitating before he turned to look at Henry. His dad’s friendly disposition had become sour as he eyed him from his spot on the stool, the jar replaced on the shelf.

“I was… out for a walk.”

“A walk.”

“A walk… Goodnight, Henry.”

Dwight left the building. He could practically feel his dad's eyes boring into his back until he was further into the woods. Dwight knew he should have listened to the rational side of his brain and ignored the invitation. Now he was feeling drunk off the moonshine and stumbling through the forest in the dark with no idea which way he'd come in. It wasn't smart to keep walking, but the forest would always lead them back to the bonfire eventually if they kept moving.

It was difficult to stomach the encounter he'd had with his dad, and he found himself bending over to dry heave. His abdomen felt like it was on fire. Dwight wanted to believe it was a coincidence, but as his intestines felt like they were trying to dissolve themselves into mush, he couldn't help but wonder if his dad spiked the moonshine as Lazar had in the woods. Except Lazar had been too stupid to give him the right dosage of whatever the hell he spiked it with, and it hadn't killed him that night like it was supposed to. Dwight didn't blame him for wanting revenge after what he'd done to him at the office.

He couldn’t shake the memory as he curled into the fetal position on the ground, whining as he endured it. It was too similar to the feeling of being poisoned, so identical that he wondered if he just had another flashback to that night. Out of everything the Entity had put him through, killing another person being had always been the one thing that continued to haunt him.

Lazar had deserved it, but his coworkers were just doing what he told them to. It was just a prank, right?

Something in him snapped that night after defending himself from Lazar. Killing Lazar had been enough to traumatize him, but even if he fled the scene, and pretended it was a bad dream, someone would eventually point the finger at him sooner or later. There couldn’t be witnesses, and there was plenty of alcohol and lighters to set their bedrolls on fire with them in it. At that moment, it felt like the right thing to do. But how do you cope with the murder of three people? Dwight couldn’t. If the branch hadn’t been dry rotted and snapped, he wondered if he would have ever ended up in the Entity’s realm.

He wished that memory would’ve stayed buried in his back pocket.

Once he was conscious, and the pains began to subside, Dwight uncurled himself and pressed his back against the tree, wiping the sweat from his forehead. There was no telling how long he’d been lying there, but he didn’t plan on staying much longer now that he felt sober again.

\--

Danny was almost naked when he stepped into the tent. The only clothing still on was a pair of underwear as he went through Dwight’s belongings. He removed a pair of jeans, checked the tag, then tossed it aside before continuing his search.

“Hey,” Dwight whispered as he took a seat, pleasantly surprised to see that Danny appeared to be feeling better. “I’m sorry about before.”

Retrieving a pair of grey sweat pants from the bag, Danny slipped them on before acknowledging that Dwight had said anything to him. He looked in his direction and shrugged, then winked.

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” Danny said.

Dwight couldn’t help but smile from the compliment, regardless of how annoyed he was about their situation, not to mention uncomfortable nausea he still felt from the moonshine. He wasn’t going to tell Danny what had happened. Knowing him, he would go right out there and kill Henry right then and there without question. They couldn’t risk exposing him. Dwight had made a mistake, and he was going to live with the consequences. Danny didn’t need to know.

“I’m not giving up,” Danny said, pulling on one of Dwight’s t-shirts. It was a tad short on him, but he didn’t seem to care. “We misplayed, but we’re not out of options. We still have Evan on the other side.”

“And the Alchemist,” Dwight reminded.

“If we can find him. Without my powers, we can’t reliably travel through the fog. He could be anywhere.”

“We have plenty of time to look.”

Danny nodded, but Dwight knew it was optimistic at best to think they could find him in the endless void, even with eternity on their hands. It was better than nothing. Hope lived on, and as long as he had that, the Entity wouldn’t kill them. There was still a chance it could work, and Dwight was thankful Danny hadn’t thrown in the towel.

Mentally and physically exhausted, Dwight reached to reclaim the gun he’d tossed aside earlier. He’d have to put it up somewhere; however, as he searched around the tent, he couldn’t find it.

“Have you seen the revolver?”

“No. Did you bring it back with you?”

“It was right there when I left. Did you leave the tent?”

“Followed you out to that cabin,” Danny said, smirking. Dwight had expected the mood to turn dark, but Danny merely laid down and patted the rug beside him. “Forget the gun.”

“I feel safer with it.”

“A gun won’t save you from your stupidity.” Danny sighed, then pulled him down to the rug without another word, embracing him and keeping him there whether he wanted to be.

Too tired to fight back, Dwight allowed it to happen, appreciative that he hadn’t made a big deal about what he’d done at the cabin. He still wasn’t used to Danny’s soft side, and it took a moment for Dwight to relax fully against him. It’d been easier last time, but he was beginning to realize that the Ghost Face wasn’t in the tent with him, Danny was.


	14. Chapter 14

Dwight couldn’t recall the last time he’d been in a trial, and over the next few weeks, Danny had been in several. Dwight anxiously awaited his return at the bonfire and wondered if this would be the one time Danny wouldn’t make it back.

Danny was selfish and refused to help repair the generators. He waited out the hatch or to escape through the exit gate. No one liked Danny, and it was getting difficult to defend him in front of the others. They’d all been new and selfish when the only person they could trust was themselves. Feng Min had been no different than Danny, yet they had all become close to her eventually. It wasn’t an impossibility, but it did require that Danny start carrying his weight and supporting the others during their trials.

Henry sat across from him, laughing about something while slapping his hand down on Claudette's shoulder. She appeared uncomfortable and annoyed but was too polite to tell him to shut up and go away. He hadn't spoken to his dad since the incident, but that didn't mean he would let him get away with what he'd done. It had crossed his mind to tell him he was his son, to see the look on his face when he realized he'd tried to poison his kid, but he bit his tongue and kept it to himself.

Everything seemed to have returned to the normal it had been before Danny had kidnapped him. The only significant difference was that the Entity exempted him from participating. He wondered why that was. Danny had told him the brand would keep him from being summoned to the trials, but he hadn't expected it to work. It showed how much Dwight knew about the occult, and that the Alchemist might be the real deal. It only made Dwight that much more enthusiastic about finding him.

“In a good mood?” Kate asked. She smiled as she joined him on the log, pushing her hair behind one ear.

“A little bit.”

“I’d be chuffed to bits, too if I didn’t have to do anything but sit on my arse,” said David, glaring at him from the other side of the bonfire, arms crossed across his chest as he leaned back against a tree. If looks could kill, Dwight was sure he’d instantly turn into a pile of ash.

“It ain’t his fault,” Kate rebuked. “Don’t listen to him, suge.”

David’s words didn’t bother Dwight; it was the thought of being on the receiving end of his notorious iron fist that made him sweat up a storm.

“For fuck’s sake. Isn’t it obvious he’s hiding something?” David stepped closer but stayed on the other side of the fire.

“We agreed not to bring this up,” said Claudette.

“You stay out of this, you’re just as suspicious as he is.” David pointed a finger in her direction.

“Guys, it’s--” Dwight tried to interrupt, but David wouldn’t allow anyone to dominate the conversation.

“Where were you, Claudette? Shagging four-eyes this whole time?” 

“Now hang on just a minute!” Kate said, standing with Claudette at her side.

The three of them erupted into an argument with Dwight no longer being the center of the subject, but rather Claudette herself. Dwight attempted to understand why David was suspicious of her, but there was too much noise to filter out any meaningful dialogue. Henry seemed amused, watching them bicker like it was a scripted drama on Monday night wrestling. However, it was starting to grate on Dwight's nerves, and he'd just about had enough of the screaming.

“Knock it off!” Dwight stood from the log and allowed the manager side of him to come out. He had no authority over them, but the three were so surprised to be told to shut up by the usually quiet one that they did just that. “Can we all just… relax for a minute?”

David pushed through the girls, snatching Dwight by the collar. Dwight gasped and gripped his wrist, shutting his eyes tight as he waited for the hit that never came.

"I better not find out you're involved," David hissed.

Dwight opened his eyes to see him too close for comfort; teeth clenched into a snarl so fierce he was surprised he hadn't ripped his throat out then and there. David pushed Dwight back, knocking him on his ass before he stormed off into the woods, hitting his fist against one of the trunks before he disappeared between the trees.

Kate sighed. “You two doing alright?”

“Yeah,” Dwight said, taking Claudette’s hand as she offered to help him get back onto his feet. They shared a look, and Dwight was curious to know more about what they’d been arguing about, but he decided to wait until Kate and Henry were out of earshot.

Kate, he trusted, she'd never given him a reason not to, but Henry -- there was no trust left after what he did, on purpose or not. Danny had suggested it was merely lousy moonshine, that it reeked of chemicals and was likely contaminated by an unintended outside source. Perhaps Dwight would have believed that four years ago, but it felt deliberate considering everything in the Entity's realm was trying to kill him. It was a high possibility that his father did hold a grudge against him for getting him trapped in the fog. It wasn't as if he knew who Dwight was, or what his original intentions had been that night, but the anger towards him had been in his eyes.

Once they were away from the others, Dwight didn’t waste any time starting the conversation, but he didn’t know exactly how to ask the question.

“Are we… both involved in something?”

Claudette hesitated before answering him, “You’re working with the Ghost face, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. And you?” It felt good to admit it to someone.

“The Trapper.” Claudette looked apprehensively around the perimeter as if afraid of being overheard.

"Danny's been wondering where he was," said Dwight, keeping his voice low. "Why hasn't he tried getting in touch with him?"

"He doesn't trust the Ghost Face. We didn't know who he was with, and I couldn't just ask everyone in the camp if they were working with a killer. We stayed with Vigo up until a year ago, then you and the others started to disappear. Oddly, Vigo did, too."

“Vigo?”

“An Alchemist. He’s an apothecary who uses herbs and chemicals to create materials. Vigo’s been working on an immunotoxin from the sap of the blight bulbs.” She adjusted her glasses, seeming to loosen up the more she talked, and became comfortable with their situation. “I’ve assisted Vigo for years, but I haven’t been able to make much progress since his disappearance. His journals are difficult to decode.”

Dwight furrowed his brows, confused yet not at the same time. It explained how Danny had such direct access to the Alchemist, the serum, and his trinkets if he’d been directly working with them already. He would have never suspected Claudette to be working with them, though. She was good at keeping secrets. But, why didn’t Danny tell him Claudette was an ally? There was no reason to keep that information from him unless there was more to the story than either of them was telling him.

“Danny told me about him. I mean, Ghost Face. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” Dwight probed further, siphoning any amount of information he could from her. It felt weird calling Danny by his moniker again, but he understood why they had to.

Claudette shook her head. “Evan thinks Ghost Face was responsible.”

"He isn't." Dwight couldn't prove it, but he felt deep in his very soul that Danny wasn't involved in whatever happened to Vigo. "Do you know where we can find his lab?"

"Evan does. I'm sorry, but we can't trust you yet. Not after Ghost Face threatened to ruin the entire procedure we've been working on for years. From our point of view, he's done everything he can to stop us at every turn. The mines, for example. He detonated dynamite to flood the tunnels and keep us from getting to the inner sanctum."

Dwight tensed, recalling the moment he nearly drowned in the tunnels, but the floor had collapsed so suddenly that it had been a godsend. An unusual warmth nestled around his heart at the realization of what might have happened.

“I think… Ghost Face did that to save me. Not to stop you.”

Claudette looked unconvinced, but she didn’t call him a liar out loud.

“Once Evan comes back, you can tell him that. For now, keep mum about your and our involvement. The more hope the others have, the stronger it’ll make the Entity. We can’t keep feeding her.”

A pair of footsteps too close for comfort made them fall quiet, pretending to have a different conversation than what they were currently discussing. It was Henry, and Dwight tried his best not to groan in annoyance to his presence audibly. He was beginning to find him more than a little irritating to be around.

"Oh, don't mind me," Henry said. "Just out for a walk." The look on his face told a different story, he knew precisely what he was doing, and Dwight couldn't help but notice the shit-eating grin that crept onto his face as Claudette excused herself. "Didn't mean to cockblock you, kiddo."

"Don't worry about it," Dwight said, brushing it off with a laugh before heading back in the camp's direction to get away from him. He had nothing to say to him. That wasn't true, Dwight had an entire book worth of things he'd like to tell his dad, but he didn't want to disrupt the community. If David already suspected him, the last thing he needed was more arrows pointed in his direction. Keeping his distance from the man he knew he could no longer trust was the best option.

As Dwight made his way towards the bonfire with the others, it occurred to him that Henry may have eavesdropped on their conversation. There was nothing he could do about it if he did, but he hoped he didn’t start telling the others.

Within the next few days, the Entity had become crueler towards Danny, summoning him for just about every trial she started with little time for rest in between. The last trial he’d endured, Danny had been sacrificed to the Entity via a hook. Danny had brushed it off, but Dwight could tell it was bothering him. He used to have so much power and influence, and now, he was nobody, just like the rest of them.

They relaxed inside Dwight’s tent, playing a game of gin to pass the time. The first real moment he’d had to be alone with him since the previous night. Dwight figured now was a better time than any to bring up what he and Claudette had discussed.

“Why didn’t you tell me Claudette was involved?”

Danny lifted his eyes from his cards. “I was wondering when you two songbirds would start singing to one another. I didn’t tell you because she’s not important.”

“She’s Vigo’s apprentice.”

Danny scoffed. “News to me. She was nothing but a glorified flower picker when I was around them.”

“Things change, I guess. Do you still have his journal?”

Danny gestured towards his coat. “In there. Are you two planning something?”

"I don't know yet. I'm supposed to meet her later tonight. If Claudette is Vigo's pupil, then she might be just what we need to get out of here."

"Maybe you're right… I sure as shit don't plan on staying here much longer."

Dwight wanted to laugh but fought it down. Now that Danny was in the thick of it, he wanted out of the nightmare for real. Narcissists were the same until the end, only caring about something if it affects them. Dwight didn’t blame him. He was sure Danny was chomping at the bit to kill someone again; Dwight had seen how Danny looked at the others, like playthings he couldn’t wait to get his hands on.

\----

Claudette looked different when she returned from the forest, dressed in what looked like a butcher’s outfit, and her hair was tied in twin braids to form a crown. The apron was stained with a multitude of gleaming liquids and contained an array of alchemical tools such as scalpels, scrapers, and needles. The brutish apparel didn’t suit her, but Dwight had no doubt she didn’t have much choice but to use any tools at her disposal.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, removing her stained white gloves. “Evan was held up in a trial.”

“How did it go? Talking to him, I mean.”

“He doesn’t want Danny involved. Not until he can prove we can trust him.”

Dwight was afraid she was going to say that. “And how are we going to do that?”

“He needs to return the amulet he stole.”

“This?” Dwight retrieved the amulet from beneath his shirt, holding it within view by the black cord. Claudette’s tired eyes widened, flashing brighter with renewed vitality.

“Yes! With it, we can turn back the clock. That’s how we’re going to get out of here. The coffin can take us back to a time where Xinlurgash is in a weakened state, and we can seal her inside the D’axhus.”

Claudette extended her hand expectantly, grinning ear to ear as she waited for him to surrender the one thing Danny had given to him to protect. Dwight wasn't so sure, but he didn't see any other option than to trust her.

"Promise me, Claudette, that no matter what happens, you'll get everyone out safe."

“I… promise to try my best.” Claudette’s expression faltered, an uneasiness in her body language as her shoulders slumped with perceived disappointment, however as Dwight handed her the amulet, her mood improved once more. “Thank you, Dwight. You won’t regret this.”

Throughout the next few weeks, Dwight kept himself occupied by helping the other campers when they returned from their trials, teaching the new arrivals skills that they would need to survive, or giving them advice on how to navigate the area or what they would be facing. He still hadn’t been summoned by the Entity, and everyone was starting to notice, not just David.

The tension Dwight felt as he walked through the camp was thick, full of resentment and malice. He felt like he was back in high-school where people would whisper behind his back, spreading rumors and just looking for a reason to mess with him or kick his ass. David was the leader now, leader of the group, and leader of the mob that targeted him. Dwight ignored them to the best of his ability, keeping to people he could trust -- Danny, Claudette, and Kate -- he understood why they held such bitter hatred towards him. Anyone would in their circumstance.

He’d give anything for the Trapper to get them out of there, but it took time. At least, that’s what Claudette had said. Dwight prayed she didn’t use the amulet herself and leave them to rot. Danny hadn’t been pleased with his decision to give her the amulet, threatening to end his life if she double-crossed them; an empty threat, the real punishment would be her abandonment.

Strangely, Dwight was starting to miss the trials, the adrenaline, the cat and mouse game. He looked towards Danny’s bedroll on the other side of camp, far away from the other survivors and close enough to the barrier that he’d end up on the other side if he rolled over. He was shaping a piece of plastic into a shiv. The restlessness was mutual, but Dwight worried he’d try to use that on someone. It was best to put it to an end straight away.

Leaving his spot on the sitting log beside the fire, Dwight approached him and sat beside him near the bedroll.

“What?” Danny asked while holding his self-made shiv up to inspect it in the moonlight.

“You’re not planning on using that are you?”

Danny smirked but refused to answer the question. Sighing, Dwight whispered into his ear something he knew he was going to regret.

“Cut me.”

Danny’s head twisted to face him, evidently puzzled by his request. Dwight laughed, slapping his shoulder playfully to let him know he was joking, although the joke was highly up for interpretation. Dwight didn’t know what was coming over him; he knew he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but the lack of physical stimuli and monotony was beginning to weigh heavily on his mind, an internal conflict between what Dwight knew he wanted and what he deserved. In his mind, he hadn’t served his sentence for the crimes he’d committed, and the guilt of being the only survivor not to receive trials was something he felt he needed to be relieved of.

“I’m kidding!” Dwight said aloud this time. “Kind of… um, this is going to sound crazy, but I noticed you’re a bit…” Dwight didn’t know how to describe it, so he made a stabbing motion with his hand figuring Danny would get the gist of what he was saying.

“You have no idea,” Danny muttered. “I’d love to slit your throat and fuck it right now.” He chuckled, and Dwight couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

The thought of being cut to ribbons by Danny brought on a strange frisson of excitement that he didn’t fully understand. A hazy intoxicated cloud overcame his thinking the longer he watched Danny toy with that homemade shiv. Something about the way he handled it, he always was skilled. He recalled how skilled he was in other departments, too. He swallowed and licked his dry lips.

_I wonder if he…_

Danny had been so eager to please him back at the cabin, but Dwight wasn’t sure how to even begin suggesting it, so he decided to initiate it instead. Ever so gently, he clasped his hand against the bulge beneath Danny’s sweatpants.

Danny’s breath hitched, then he gave a slight playful smirk. “You want it?”

Dwight nodded, swallowing hard. “I do.”

Danny snatched Dwight by the hand and led him further into the forest, away from prying eyes. Dwight's heart pounded with nervous anticipation as they neared the woodlot, stopping just halfway as Danny impatiently pinned him to a tree by his wrists, full of passion. Dwight smiled to himself, returning the ever-increasing bruising and possessive kiss as Danny's hunger for him grew apparent. He welcomed Danny's hands leaving his wrists to unbutton his dress shirt, and pulling away from his mouth to hungrily suckle at his neck as his hands explored his body.

The forest's chilly air prickled his bare chest, forming goosebumps along his body as they stripped the clothes from one another, but Danny's touch ignited a warmth unlike any other, a sudden fever he didn't want to break.

Overwhelmed, Dwight attempted to keep up with the tempo and reached for Danny's sweatpants' waistband, snaking his hand beneath the beltline to take hold of his firm, half-hard cock. Dwight sunk to his knees, fully intending on returning the generous favor Danny had given him back at the cabin. He'd never sucked a cock before, but he was sure he could figure it out.

Holding Danny in his hand felt different from holding his own. It was thicker and curved upwards towards his abdomen. He met Danny’s gaze then quickly darted his eyes back to the dick in his hand. Unsure of how to approach first, Dwight began to caress the shaft with uncertainty, but when Danny released a soft exhale and ran his fingers through his hair, he felt reassured that this was the right way to go about it.

Feeling brave, Dwight flicked his tongue across the glans, surprised that it didn’t taste like much of anything as he gradually took more of Danny in his mouth. He felt Danny’s other hand grip his shoulder, squeezing once, then relaxed his grip.

“Careful with the teeth,” Danny said, his voice sounded huskier than usual. Dwight felt his own cock begin to harden, and he suddenly became hyper-aware of its existence.

Careful of his teeth, Dwight did the best he could to limit the number of times they brushed against his cock by pulling them back behind his lips and allowed his hand to take cover at the base. It wasn't easy, but he didn't want to ruin the mood by accidentally hurting him. 

As Dwight gradually engulfed him into his mouth, the appreciative sighs and sounds escaping Danny's throat let him know he was doing a good job. It made him feel almost powerful in a way. It made him feel good, knowing that he had every ounce of control over Danny's pleasure at that current moment and could put an end to it in an instant. But he didn't want to; it was too much fun even when his jaw began to feel sore after a few minutes, the act itself was addicting.

Danny was the one to ease him off, pulling away and panting as he spoke, “Easy,” he said. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“Did I… was it okay?”

“You’re a natural,” he assured.

Danny knelt with him and guided Dwight to lay back into the dirt to trail kisses down his chest and torso, lower and lower until he reached his waist. The belt was the first to go, then the jeans as Dwight eagerly squirmed out of them and his underwear, gasping softly as the cold air ghosted against his erection.

“Relax,” Danny purred.

Danny lifted and parted Dwight's legs, bending them at the knee towards his shoulders. Realizing how exposed he was, Dwight felt his face begin to flush with embarrassment but didn't move as Danny lapped his tongue over the rim of his entrance. Dwight shivered, sighing a soft moan as his hole puckered and tensed to the unfamiliar, oddly intense sensation. Though he couldn't see what Danny was doing, Dwight could feel every lick and suckle against his skin, and the saliva that dribbled onto him to make him wet enough to penetrate.

Danny pressed one finger against the entrance, easing it in as Dwight tilted his head back with a sighed moan, momentarily seeing sparks as he began to play with his own cock. His finger felt good, but he felt empty, too empty, even as Danny added the second, probing and stretching him with care as he continued to lick around the rim, his fingers, across his taint and back down again. Dwight had to stop touching himself, the pressure in his stomach begin to build to the brim, and he didn't want to finish until he was inside.

“Danny,” he breathed. “I need you. Now.”

There was little to no hesitation as Danny removed his digits and repositioned himself between Dwight’s legs. He scooted closer, lifting Dwight’s lower half onto his lap so that he could have a better angle. Dwight rested his legs on either side of his waist across his thighs, spinning in intoxicating arousal that kept Dwight from shying away from Danny’s touch as he stroked Dwight’s flushed and erect cock.

Precum wetted Danny’s thumb as he ran the digit over the tip of his dick, swirling his finger around the glans before guiding his hand back to the base and around his balls. Dwight bucked into his grasp, but Danny kept his hips in place with a firm grip. Unable to contain his state of excitation any longer, Dwight hummed with desire, playing with half-heartedly himself to ease some of the heat.

Danny's cock was massive in comparison to his fingers. As the head of Danny's cock pressed against his saliva drenched entrance, Danny moaned. Dwight shuddered then inhaled sharply as Danny's cock passed the threshold. He made a strangled noise and dug his fingers into Danny's thighs, forgetting how to breathe as he tried to adjust to the girth inside of him.

“Are you okay?” Danny asked, caressing his stomach to comfort him.

"I think so." Dwight swallowed the dryness in his throat; he wasn't going to allow his temporary discomfort to get the better of him. Dwight met Danny's gaze, holding it and relaxed his grip on his thighs. "Don't stop."

When Danny began to move, he inserted himself steadily deeper as Dwight started to adjust to the size. It was difficult not to become tense again, but Dwight trusted him, and allowed himself to remain relaxed. Dwight released a breathy moan as Danny thrust far enough to stimulate his prostate. It wasn’t a sensation he could compare to anything else. Too good to be real, euphoric was close enough.

Quiet moans echoed between them as Dwight stroked himself, matching the steady pace Danny had set, lost in the heat of the moment as Danny quickened his movements, taking Dwight faster as he held his hips in place. Dwight’s glasses had fogged up and begun to slip down the sweaty bridge of his nose, but Dwight paid it no mind as he leaned on one elbow to see him better. Dwight was closer than ever now, and he could feel the pressure building like a pot about to boil over.

“I’m gonna--” Dwight couldn’t finish the sentence, stroking himself until he dissolved into pleasure, coming spurts onto himself with a choked moan.

As time seemed to slow, Danny continued for a few more seconds before Dwight felt Danny's cock begin to throb, and soon a wet warmth flooded his body. Danny groaned, holding Dwight's hips in place until he finished before moving both hands to rest on the ground on either side of Dwight's waist, both men panting heavily.

Dwight caressed Danny's scarred torso, in disbelief of what he'd just done and with whom. He allowed his arm to fall from his chest, too drained to keep it lifted any longer. Meeting each other's eyes, they smiled at each other, laughed, then Danny leaned forward to kiss him as Dwight cupped his cheek.

Dwight didn't want it to end as Danny soon rested on top of him, kissing from his lips to his jaw, neck, and collarbone. He savored the warmth of Danny's body and the intoxicating smell of his musk. Satisfied was an understatement; Dwight was content for the first time in years.

"Thank you," Dwight said. It felt like the right thing to say.

"You're adorable."

Dwight gave a chortling laugh as he wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist, scanning the handsome features of his face and physique, admiring every visible inch of him.

“What?” Danny whispered.

“Enjoying the view.”

The moment felt too good to be real; there had to be a catch. Dwight looked at the sky, at the blood-red moon, and the swirling fog, he wondered when the Entity would ruin it by summoning a still naked Danny into the trials. As amusing as it would be to see Danny sneaking around in his birthday suit, he didn’t want the moment to end, but it eventually would, and they had to get dressed before someone saw them.

A sudden, sharp, ear-piercing pop rang throughout the forest and then faded into silence. Dwight flinched and looked to Danny for answers, but he had a feeling he knew it was the missing revolver.


	15. Chapter 15

Danny was okay. Dwight felt the relief surround him like a comforting blanket; they were both okay. But the sound of a gunshot ringing through the woods brought anything but comfort.

“What was that?” Dwight asked.

“No clue.”

Danny shrugged, helping Dwight to his feet. It wasn't how he wanted to end their moment, but nothing ever went as planned when it involved the Entity and her games. They redressed in silence, sharing a couple of glances in the process. Dwight couldn't help but smile to himself, he felt different now, but in a good way, almost as if he could take on the world. Of course, he knew it was just the endorphins, but it didn't stop him from speed walking back to camp with newfound confidence. Danny was practically chomping at the bit with excitement, but not for the same reason.

“I bet it was that blonde chick,” Danny said, snapping his fingers as if he’d concluded solving a who-dun-it mystery novel. “She’s got that crazed look in her eye. That one is way too happy.”

Dwight didn't know who he was talking about, it certainly wasn't Kate, but he didn't feel like humoring the conversation. His brain was running on post-orgasm clarity, and Danny's enthusiasm about who did or didn't get shot was alarming, but not unexpected. Dwight was more concerned about who was likely injured and the consequences of what might have happened. And if it were his gun. Even if they couldn't die, he didn't want to be responsible for someone else's pain.

The camp was quiet when they reached the bonfire, and nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. The other campers looked equally confused, whispering to each other about where the sound had come from and who. Some theorized it was either the Doctor’s surge or the Deathslinger. With a name like that, Dwight could only imagine what kind of monstrosity was walking around out there. He pictured some bizarre thing of living pestilence, leaving disease and decay everywhere it touched. Perhaps it was even uglier than the Hag herself.

Kate was the first to notice them returning from the woods as she made her rounds through the camp, checking on the others. She grimaced when she looked at Danny, but her expression changed to a smile as they came closer, and Dwight could tell she was faking her sudden perky personality.

_That was weird._

“You two doin’ alright?” Kate asked.

“We’re fine,” Dwight answered, looking around for any sign of a threat. “Any idea what that was?”

“Deathslinger would be my guess. We ain’t heard him from camp before, but he’s the only killer with a gun.”

"Wait. What?" The thought of a killer having a gun never crossed his mind; things had always been moderately fair in the trials. A firearm was anything but fair. At least in the Huntress' case, throwing her hatchets required precise aim and strength, so it felt as if they stood a chance. "A gun? Since when did the Entity allow guns?"

“It’s one of them whaling cannons,” she said, glancing at Danny, who walked away from their conversation, evidently bored now that he knew there wasn’t a potential victim involved. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”

The inside of Kate’s tent was about what Dwight had expected; disorganized, shabby chic. She’d done what she could with what little there was available in the surrounding abandoned buildings, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think you’d walked into someone’s bedroom, albeit with a bedroll instead of a bed.

“Is something wrong?” Dwight asked as Kate moved her guitar to the side to give him more space to stand in the small area.

"David wants Danny out," she started, taking a seat and rubbing behind her calf where an old wound was still healing. The scarring looked to be from a chainsaw. "I thought you should know."

“Out?” Dwight joined her on the ground. “Where does he expect him to go?”

She paused a moment, then sighed. "Nathan’s been spreading rumors that Danny's not who he says he is; that he's Ghost Face. He claims he overheard you and Claudette talking about it. Is it true?"

The sudden accusation startled him, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Most of the newer arrivals probably didn’t even know who, or what, the Ghost Face was, however, Henry was beginning to become a problem. A life exchange, more like a pain in the ass that was causing more harm than good.

"He's…" Dwight nodded, and Kate's eyebrows raised to a curve, lips parting slightly. She looked speechless. He couldn't lie to her, not Kate. "He's on our side, Kate. I promise."

“On our side? Dwight, did you forget what he’s done to us?”

“Of course, I haven’t, but you have to trust me.”

"It's not you that I don't trust!" Kate stood and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. "I know he's your… friend, so I wanted to give you a chance to stop what they have planned. They want to burn him, suge! If that doesn't work, they're going to bury him up to his neck as a plan b. The others don't feel safe anymore with him running around freely. And with the way he behaves in the trials, there won't be much sympathy for him."

“Are you kidding me?” Dwight stood, his blood beginning to boil. “David’s a hypocrite! He’s a power-hungry thug who wants anyone who might challenge his leadership out of here.”

“He’s trying to protect us.”

“Dammit, we’re trying to get us all out of here!” Kate flinched, and Dwight realized he’d raised his voice to her.

“What has gotten into you?” she asked, appearing more worried than taken aback by him.

They were planning to turn a nightmare into an actual living hell where they would not only be looking over their shoulders for the killers but also each other. A haven turned prison. If they began to turn on one another, they would inevitably be no better than the killers. Regardless of Danny’s previous alliance, he was on their side now. Perhaps not the other survivors, Dwight wasn’t naive enough to think he cared about them whatsoever, but he was, at the very least, on the right side of the fight, and that mattered.

"I'm sick of being silent while the people I love are hurt." It was the truth, but it wasn't his entire reason for being upset, it was just the only excuse he could come up with on the spot that she would believe to be true. Not that he'd started to fall in love with Danny, but the mere thought of losing him made him begin to panic. She wouldn't trust him at all if she knew the truth.

Danny had changed him, being around someone as domineering as he was, so intimidating that he had to adjust to it or be beat down at every turn by such an overbearing personality. He couldn't protect Rose from Lazar, but he could, at the very least, protect Danny from David.

“Thank you... for telling me, Kate. I’m sorry I raised my voice.”

She exhaled softly through her nostrils and lowered her arms from her chest. "I won't get between you and David. He's done a lot for us since you and Meg disappeared." Kate pursed her lips once she'd finished talking, nodding towards her tent's entrance, silently telling him that it was time to leave.

"I understand."

Exiting Kate’s tent, he could feel eyes on him -- they were suspicious, and he was sure they’d overheard the yelling. Ignoring them, he headed into the direction he saw Danny disappear, noting to himself that David and Henry weren’t anywhere that he could see.

_I hope they’re in a trial right now._

It would give him time to figure out where Danny went and to give him a heads up. If he knew Danny, he likely wouldn't take it seriously, though. Dwight didn't want to, but after all the stories David told them about the stuff he'd done before the nightmare, he felt like he wouldn't bluff when it came to a threat.

Danny wasn’t at his bedroll, or in Dwight’s tent, and the only other place he could think of that he would be was walking in the forest or a trial. With nothing to do but wait, he sought out David King. Dwight doubted that David would be very open-minded to what he was about to ask him after nearly taking a fist to the face. He had to try, though.

It didn’t matter that it was Danny at risk. Eventually, things would get to the point where they used those kinds of punishments against anyone they disagreed with or just plain disliked. It wasn’t right. They were trapped, but they weren’t animals, there was still an active moral compass, and he wasn’t going to allow some thug to disrupt what little peace they had.

David was using a hammer to beat a tire, his way of keeping in shape without equipment, which David had tied around a tree trunk with an old, dry-rotted rope. Every hit brought it closer to its breaking point, holding on by just enough threads to keep the tire suspended and pressed against the tree. It wasn't an ideal punching bag, but it did the trick for what David needed, and it was better than someone's head. Beside him, there was a small campfire, far away from the massive bonfire at the center of the camp, it was necessary to not stumble around in the dark where the main bonfire's illumination didn't reach.

“David, um… can I talk to you?” Dwight could feel his confidence wavering the instant he approached the brute. If he had a tail, it would be quivering, tucked between his legs at that very moment. How on Earth someone managed to challenge David King in a fight was a mystery to him. They must have had a death wish.

When David noticed his presence, he clenched his fist around the handle of the hammer tight, glaring at Dwight from over his shoulder. Whether it was supposed to be a silent threat or not, Dwight received it that way.

“What do you want?” He said through gritted teeth, almost looking through him, not _at_ him.

"To talk? Maybe. We're not your enemy, David."

David's eyes zeroed in on Dwight now. "Prove it. You and the lass disappear and reappear, and we're supposed to believe you're not one of them?" David scoffed. "Out of my sight, I got things I need doing."

It was now or never. Dwight had to tell him the truth. "Li-listen to me," Dwight started, attempting to sound more confidant than he felt. "Give me time to explain, and then you're free to think whatever you want. Please?"

"You got two minutes."

Two minutes was an overstatement as David listened intently, seeming to hang on every word as Dwight recalled the events he’d been through; whether or not David believed a single word that came out of his mouth, he couldn’t tell, but he never interrupted him. When he’d finally finished up to the point where the Doctor had killed them in the bunker, he ended his story there. Claudette’s part was hers to tell, should she decide to come clean.

“I swear, David, he only wants to help. I know how it sounds, but I’m telling you the truth.”

“That’s a fascinating story,” said Henry from behind him. “Almost believed you during some of it.”

Dwight twisted around to face him, wondering how long he’d been standing there.

“Are you stalking me?” Dwight asked, face burning hot with anger and embarrassment that he hadn’t realized that his father had followed him out there. It was beginning to feel like his dad was monitoring his every move, and he couldn’t help but wonder why.

“Yes,” Henry admitted.

“Um, why?”

_Do I have two stalkers now?_

“I had a feeling you were responsible for everything, and by the sound of it, I was right.”

_Responsible for what?_

The sudden strong arm around his neck stunned him. Dwight locked up with fear, barely able to stand on his tip-toes compared to David's height. Dwight gasped, and pulled at David's over muscled arm, which held him in a place like a dog wearing a choke collar, every movement seemed to make it that much more uncomfortable.

"What are you doing?" Dwight demanded, glaring at his father, but equally infuriated with David, who had turned against him despite everything he'd told him. David would rather listen to his dad's batshit conspiracy theories instead of believing someone who'd been there with him, thick and thin, since the beginning. Dwight couldn't believe it, that wasn't David, was it?

“Setting things right,” Henry said. “Once we get rid of you, this nightmare can finally end.”

_He’s gone insane, he’s actually lost his mind._

“It’s not me! The Entity, Xinlurgash, she’s the one who-”

"Blah, blah, blah. The only monster here is you. Your little plan failed, and now you're trying to beg your way out of it?" Henry stood in front of him, then smirked. He lifted the, now polished, revolver close to Dwight's face. "Thanks for this, by the way. You should really learn to keep your mouth shut. Never know who might be listening."

Dwight grit his teeth. He couldn't fathom how either of them could believe he was at fault after everything he'd just told them. It made perfect sense -- the Entity had pulled them into her realm to torture them for eternity. What part didn't they understand, and how could Dwight possibly be involved when the killers slaughtered him just like the rest of them.

Dwight’s heart pounded fiercely in his chest, even if he knew that being shot with that gun would do nothing permanent, it still intimidated him. If he were to die, there’d be no telling what Henry would do after. Would he target Danny? Of course, he would. Then who? Claudette? Kate? Dwight couldn’t let that happen.

Henry reached to grab the amulet from around Dwight’s neck, pausing when he realized it was no longer there. Henry furrowed his brows, then glared.

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?” Dwight said, playing innocent.

"The amulet! Where is it? Do you think I don't know? I heard you and that girl. She has it, doesn't she? Or perhaps your other friend Danny Johnson. Or was it Jed Olsen? He's always been good at pretending to be someone else."

Dwight’s heart skipped a beat. “They don’t have it! Listen to me,” Dwight grunted as David pulled his grip tighter. “You were right, I am responsible for bringing you here, but I had nothing to do with this realm or the trials, I swear to you.”

“Admittance. I wasn’t expecting that.” Henry lowered the gun. “You can deny your part in all this all you want, but we know the truth, Dwight. You’re not the only one with friends on the other side. And we know exactly what your role has been. Take him to the clearing; we’ll deal with him there.”

“Wait! David, wait. You don’t believe this, do you? Why are you listening to him?”

David ignored him led Dwight through the trees by the back of his neck. Henry didn’t follow, turning back towards the camp in the other direction. Dwight’s head began to spin, remembering what Kate had told him. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying of an existence that would be, and the more he thought about it, the more he began to panic.

“David, please, don’t do this. I’m telling the truth,” Dwight pleaded.

“Oi, shut it already,” David grumbled, pushing him forward into the dirt. Dwight landed with a heavy grunt, catching himself with his hands and swiftly rolling over to block any incoming attack. “How thick do you think I am?” He said, offering to help Dwight to his feet. “Could see right through that greedy sod the moment I laid my eyes on him.”

Hesitantly, Dwight accepted his gesture and immediately took a step away from David once he was on his feet, suspicious of his sudden temperament change.

"So, who's got this amulet whatsit?"

Dwight held his tongue; it wasn’t going to be that easy to regain his trust, not after the stunt David had just pulled, and now he wanted to pretend they were buddy, buddy, again. He was trying to trick him into a false sense of comfort, to get him to reveal information to take back to Henry. Then again, David could easily beat it out of him. David was smart, smarter than Dwight, so there was a chance he was telling the truth, maybe he’d seen through Henry a long time ago.

“I can’t tell you,” Dwight said.

David looked unimpressed, but he probably expected it. 

“Enough bullshit, Dwight. I’m in your corner, but your suspicious behavior is difficult to excuse.” Dwight rubbed his throat and started towards the camp, but David pressed a heavy hand against his chest to hold him back. “I’ll beat it out of you if I have too.”

David clenched his hand around the hammer he still had. Dwight recoiled.

“This is bigger than all of us. I need your help, David.”

David tilted his head to the side, appearing to size him up before he responded. "If I help ya, you'll stop with the bullshit?"

Dwight nodded.

\--

By the time they arrived at the camp, it was on fire. Smoke smothered every inch as they made their way towards the bonfire. People were running, fleeing to the border's edge, but too afraid to cross beyond the line. Dwight tried to avoid the survivors fleeing the area in a hurry. At least half a dozen were still in the camp, himself and David included, who headed in another direction, hopefully, to check for people who needed help. David pushed through them with ease, but Dwight got knocked to the side, nearly off-balance, but he managed to catch himself against a laundry pole. By the time he regained his footing, he'd lost David in the sea of smoke.

Coughing, he pushed through, wading through the grey as he reached the bonfire in the center. The fire had spread from a body so charred he couldn't recognize them. Danny? His heart sunk, but denial swiftly took over. No, someone tried to take their own life. It wouldn't be the first time someone had attempted to throw themselves into the flames only for nothing to happen. The fire had only been an illusion -- had been. But the fire was real, and it engulfed the majority of the camp, radiating an unbearable heat. It reminded him of the trailer park.

“Dwight!” It was Kate, waving for his attention on the other side of the camp. He swiftly made his way towards her, noting that soot and blood stained her clothes and face.

“Are you alright?” He choked once she led him to a breathable area.

“I’m fine. Just some bumps and bruises.”

“Did Henry come through here?”

“Who?”

“I mean, Nathan. He has a gun.” Dwight observed his surroundings, searching for any sign that he was there.

Her brows lifted at the mention of a gun. “I ain’t seen him, but we oughta get a move on before that fire gets any closer.”

Kate was right, they didn’t have time for idle chit-chat, and the longer they stood around, the worst things were going to get. Henry would eventually turn up.

_I just hope the others make it out._

A scream made them both halt as they turned to leave. It sounded like Claudette. Dwight said nothing to Kate as he raced back into the camp. He briefly heard her shout something after him, but her footsteps behind him indicated that she was following him back into the camp.

Fire. Why was it always fire? _Did she do this?_ The thought crossed his mind that the Entity was trying to purge them from existence to restart. He had no evidence for this theory, but he felt it in his gut. It was the only conclusion he could come to as to why the fire was suddenly flammable. Not unless this, too, had been some messed up plan of Henry’s to get back at him for what had happened at the trailer park.

“Where is it!” Henry shouted through the smoke, and by the time they cleared it, he had her pinned to the ground by her head, hand wrapped around her hair, with the gun pointed at her face. “I know you have it.”

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kate demanded boldly before the gun turned in her direction. She lifted her hands and took a step back. Immortal, or not, no one wanted to get shot.

“Stay out of this, Kate. You’re not involved.” Though he said that, he didn’t bother to point the gun elsewhere. He pulled Claudette to her feet by the hair, and she whimpered, grabbing hold of his wrist to attempt to loosen his grip.

“Like hell I ain’t!”

“Kate,” Dwight warned softly, extending his hand outward in a cautious manner towards her. “Don’t antagonize him.”

There was no sense in what she was doing, they were unarmed, and he knew for a fact that his dad didn’t miss a shot. At least he didn’t miss when Dwight was a kid, but he hoped that there was a chance that he held rose-tinted glasses about how amazing his father had been. After all, he hadn’t proven to be anything but a snake and a bully thus far.

“Just give me the amulet, and you can go.” Henry’s voice had become calmer, his body language more composed as he turned his attention back to Claudette.

“I already told you I don’t have it.”

“Then where is it?” He growled.

_What the hell am I supposed to do? Calm him down enough to make him lower the gun? He isn’t going to hand it over._

He tried to think of scenarios in movies he’d seen; whether they were entirely accurate or not, they were his only reference to the kind of situation he now found himself. It was like there was a weight pressing down on his throat, choking him into submission. Giving him what he wanted, that would be the most obvious solution, but in doing so, it ruined their chances of getting out. Dwight grit his teeth, narrowing his eyes at the piece of shit in front of him, Henry wasn’t getting his hands on that amulet.

Dwight felt dizzy as he stepped in front of Kate to come between her and the weapon. Henry hadn’t noticed, but Claudette did. Her eyebrows lifted, then she shook her head. Henry’s head snapped to attention, eyeing Dwight with suspicion. Claudette gasped as he pressed the barrel of the gun against her temple. Her face darkened with a stormy expression, but she remained calm, staring at Dwight as if she was begging him to do something.

"Try me and see what happens," Henry said. "You know, a smart man once said, killing a person ain't no big deal. Once you let go, no moral compass, you can be anything, and I'm through being nothing." Henry's hand clenched against the gun's handle, his finger far too close to the trigger for comfort. "So, what's it going to be, huh? Are you all going to stand around and burn, or are you going to give me what I want?"

"She doesn't have it," Dwight said. Henry cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at Dwight. "I'll… I'll take you to it if you let her go." He had to think of something fast.

"How stupid do you think I am?"

_Pretty stupid considering you’re jeopardizing your own escape right now._

"It's the truth. We buried it somewhere safe." Dwight needed to get them out of there. The smoke was becoming much too thick to breathe, and the fire had begun to engulf the path they’d came in. It was only a matter of time before they were trapped. "It's across the border, near the Macmillan Estate."

Henry stepped away from a rogue flame that threatened to burn his leg. He clenched his jaw, then grumbled something under his breath before he looked back at Dwight.

“You better be telling the truth.”

“Are you sure about this?” Kate whispered, Dwight had nearly forgotten she was there, but he couldn’t very well let her in on what was happening right then and there.

She would just have to trust him.


	16. Chapter 16

Without Danny and the powers gifted to him by the Entity, there was little way to tell if they were going in the right direction. The fog was so dense that Dwight could barely see the others as he looked over his shoulder. Henry had placed him upfront to keep an eye on him while holding Claudette hostage with the stolen revolver. Kate, however, wasn't allowed to follow them. A liability; another pair of hands to keep watch of.

Henry wasn't as stupid as he let on; Dwight had to give him credit where it was due. Henry knew there was no way Kate could follow after them once they'd passed the threshold between their camp and into the fog where entropy reigned supreme. There was no telling where they'd end up or who they'd find waiting for them.

The stern expression on Henry's face suggested that Dwight should mind his own business and turn back around, so he did, marching forward into the endless forest until they eventually came across a train station. The cars had been tilted over, left to rust in peace against the elements. Dwight had never seen the place before, but it wasn't where they needed to be. He hoped Henry didn't blame him for 'getting them lost' when he had just as much of an idea as to where they were going as Henry did.

"How much longer?" Henry asked.

"I don't know," Dwight said before Claudette could say anything. If someone were going to take his aggression, he'd prefer it were himself than her. "There's no guarantee we'll come out in the right place without an offering associated with the realm."

The fact that Henry didn't know that intrigued Dwight. Had he been living under a rock the entire time he'd been there or simply ignored how things worked? When he heard Henry and Claudette's footsteps come to an abrupt stop, Dwight paused and turned to face them.

"You're tricking me," Henry said, glaring at him.

"We didn't trick you. You're the one who made us come out here," Dwight said, biting back a snappier insult he felt was better left unsaid. Even if they were trying to trick him, he hadn't given them much of a choice to do anything else. Dwight certainly wasn't going to tell him the truth, and Dwight doubted Claudette would do the same. Claudette shared a look with Dwight, nodding in his direction as if giving him a silent confirmation of what he'd thought.

Before Henry had a chance to speak, the fog thickened impossibly around the three of them, submerging them all in an impenetrably thick mist that cloaked everything around them. He couldn't see Claudette or Henry anymore; it was as if they were wisped away by some unknown apparition.

"What are you doing?" Henry's voice pierced through the gray expanse, and Dwight could hear his feet skidding against the dirt as if he were turning in place frantically. "Stop it!"

Dwight went to call out to them but decided it was better to keep quiet and let himself vanish. He hoped Claudette had done the same, using the chance to slip away from him since his line of sight was borderline zero.

Dwight strained his ears, listening for any sound of Claudette or the shuffling of another pair of feet, but he could only hear Henry. And then silence. There was nothing but the sound of his own ragged, panicked breaths as he waited for something to happen.

Snap. The familiar sound of a metal bear trap clanging closed in the distance suspended the quiet. A scream, two shots fired, and then silence continued. There was no way to tell which direction it had come from, but Dwight could tell it was close.

 _Crap_ He thought, taking a step backwards. _Do I run?_

Running felt like the worst thing to do.

Just as fast as it came, the fog dissipated, leaving him by himself at the Macmillan Estate. He swore under his breath, cursing himself for not acting and trying to help Claudette when he had a chance, but it was too late to worry about it now. At least he was away from the gun-toting maniac.

He searched for any sign of bear traps before moving from his position but spotted none that had been tripped, only the ones that been set.

There was no point in just standing around; Dwight needed to find Claudette before something terrible happened to her. If Henry decided to torture her, she might give him the amulet. Dwight felt as if he barely knew Claudette anymore, but something told him she wouldn't hold up long to something like that. Most people couldn't, and his father was serious about getting what he wanted.

As Dwight took a step forward, he paused again when he felt someone staring into the back of his head. He turned to see the Trapper, Evan MacMillan, not even ten feet away, holding his bloodied cleaver to the side, but he didn't attempt to advance on Dwight. For a man of his stature, the Trapper moved around almost noiselessly. Dwight wondered if it were a part of his powers or if he just knew how to creep up on people like a hunter in the dark. Dwight was getting fed up with stealthy adversaries, but the Trapper didn't appear to be a threat at that very moment.

Dwight stared at him, his own heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, and he was unable to form a sentence to ask him his intentions. Evan watched him in silence until Dwight eventually found the courage to speak, taking a step in Evan's direction to test his aggression.

"Evan, right?" He said softly as if he were trying to soothe a feral dog. "I'm-"

Evan tilted his head to one side before eventually turning his back to Dwight and heading in the direction of a house on a hill. It was just a few hundred meters away from the mines, and it stood out amongst the ramshackle cabins around them. When Dwight didn't immediately follow, Evan paused and looked at him over his shoulder. He could almost feel a red-hot glare through the holes of his mask.

"Coming," Dwight said far too quiet at first; his throat felt as if it were trying to close in on itself. He cleared his throat and repeated it loud enough for him to hear this time and then jogged after him before Evan lost his patience. He doubted he had any obligation to keep Dwight alive if he didn't want to.

Climbing the path towards the house, which appeared to have been built with a high-style architecture in mind, looked a few hundred years old. Dwight knew a little about homes due to his past jobs in marketing, making advertisements for homeowners looking to sell, but he doubted that knowledge would come in handy outside of knowing the interior's standard layout. He tried to remember any crawl spaces or where the exit might be if he needed to make a run for it.

Dwight didn't know what to expect as Evan opened the front door and stepped inside. Dwight avoided the holes in the rotten floorboards as he kept to the right side, watching his step while he attempted to keep up with the much taller Evan, who seemed to stride the building with little trouble and avoiding the weak points on the floor like they weren't there. Dwight imagined he'd fall through it all together, considering the bulk of him. The wood flooring felt like memory foam, sinking down and waiting to give out if too much weight were put on it.

Evan stopped inside the dining room, standing by the fireplace as he waited for him to catch up. Dwight couldn't help but admire the furnishing, but he wasn't here for that. Dwight watched as Evan moved to the fireplace's right and gently pressed against the green, floral styled wallpaper that may or may not contain arsenic. He reminded himself not to touch it as he followed Evan through the false door and into a hidden laboratory. It didn't look new. Whoever made it had been using it for a while.

Against the wall were several bookshelves containing stones, scrolls, and books that looked like they were straight out of a Mage's sanctuary. However, the lack of proper ventilation concerned him. He couldn't imagine it was safe inhaling the fumes of whatever concoctions they were brewing in the glass tubes in front of him.

Vials, mortar and pestles, portable gas burners, and various other apparatuses line the counters and tables. A few dozen strangely shaped orange flowers with spider-like limbs in place of the filament. The anther, the tip of the filament, looked quite sharp. The flowers littered the desk and floor, glowing a familiar light, and he recalled seeing them once before. At least, the fully grown ones during trials.

The same glow as the serum - although he doubted this was the same serum that twisted the killers into horrible abominations for a temporary period. Glancing at Evan, Dwight could still picture what he had looked like then, orange fluid oozing from his mask. And the smell, like rotten meat.

"Why did you bring me here?" Dwight asked to keep his mind off things. He still couldn't believe Danny had injected him with the same kind of serum. He was amazed he hadn't been turned into something horrible himself.

"The amulet-" he said, but Dwight spoke over him before he could finish, his anxiety getting the better of him.

"Claudette has it."

"-is in the safe. Four, One, Zero, Eight." Evan pointed his cleaver at a spot on the floor between two shelves.

Dwight's face felt hot when he realized he'd interrupted him. He hoped that he hadn't made Evan angry, but Evan hadn't immediately slaughtered him, so he took that as a good sign. Cautiously, Dwight approached the spot he'd indicated. Lifting a part of the room-sized patterned rug, Dwight saw an old floor safe.

Dwight opened the safe, and sure enough, the amulet lay inside at the bottom. It wasn't the only thing inside. It was surrounded by orange petals, a syringe filled with serum, and a large manilla folder he swore he'd seen before. Dwight absentmindedly pressed his hand against the injection point as he lifted the syringe, looking it over as the feeling of a rock formed in the pit of his stomach. It felt an eternity had passed since the last time he'd received a dose.

Setting the syringe down, Dwight retrieved the amulet next. He didn't dare go for the manilla folder as he heard Evan's heavy footsteps moving around the room behind him; he eventually took a seat in an old oak swivel chair behind the table.

"What happened to Claudette and Henry?" Dwight asked, holding the amulet in the palm of his hand. It looked older than he remembered.

"That wasn't your Claudette," Evan said, leaning back in the chair. Dwight could feel him observing him through the mask as he spoke, and he felt a chill run down his spine, but that was likely due to his survival instinct. There was no way to tell just yet if he could trust him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dwight pocketed the amulet, not wanting to keep it around his neck for anyone and everyone to see.

Dwight understood he wasn't much of a talker, and it took Evan a moment before he bothered to respond, trailing his fingertip along with the carvings in the wooden desk.

"When a drift occurs, something splits. It's rare, but there's two of Claudette. That Claudette doesn't exist. She's a ghost."

"She didn't look like a ghost to me." Dwight found it hard to believe, but what other choice did he have but to take him for his word. Claudette had been acting strange sometimes. "You didn't answer my question. Where is the real Claudette, and where is Henry?"

"She's here. Safe."

_So Henry stepped into the trap after all._

Dwight sighed with relief. That was good, things had worked out in the end, but the camp was still ablaze. They'd lost everything they'd built in the time they'd been in the fog. Dwight couldn't help but feel despair at the thought.

"Thank you for saving me," Dwight said as he moved closer to the desk to inspect the items on top of it. Many markings were on the table's edges, which made him think someone had taken a blade to it before. Maybe Evan himself.

"Ghost Face asked me to."

"Danny's here?"

Evan shook his head no, and Dwight felt his shoulders slump. Dwight wondered if Danny met with him by the edge of the forest before everything happened, or if they'd already had this planned.

"Where is he?" Dwight asked once Evan didn't bother to continue.

"The fog with the others."

Dwight was worried he would say that, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, either. If Danny was in the fog, he was safe from Henry. Not that he thought Henry could actually hurt Danny, he just didn't like the idea of what he planned to do to Danny out of spite for their situation. And to himself.

It was unlikely the two would run into each other due to the forest's random nature, but that made it just as tricky for Dwight to find Danny, too. It didn't matter, though. If he was out there, Dwight was determined to find him.

"How did you find me?" Dwight asked once he'd realized that Evan must have a way to traverse the fog like Danny used to be able to.

"You leave an obvious trail after you injected yourself with blight."

"I didn't inject myself," Dwight corrected.

"You didn't put up much of a fight."

The false door smoothly swung open, and Claudette entered the room, carrying a cardboard box with various items that fit the rest of the room. She looked surprised when she saw Dwight, pausing for a long moment as she looked between the two of them. Claudette looked confused, to say the least. Without a word, Evan left the room, taking his cleaver with him and leaving the two alone as if they'd spoken via telepathy, and she'd asked him to.

"After I saw what happened to the camp, I thought you and everyone else were dead," she said, setting the box on top of the table.

"I thought Henry was going to kill _you_ ," Dwight said.

"Why would Henry want to kill me?"

"He wants the amulet," Dwight said as he retrieved it from his pocket. "I saw him take you hostage with a gun, but Evan said it wasn't you, but a ghost of you? What did he mean by that?"

"Not necessarily," she said, taking a seat in which Evan had been sitting in and pulled the chair closer to the desk. "I don't know how it works, so I can't explain it. But, yes, I have a ghost, if that's what you want to refer to it. I prefer the term doppelganger. It's how I'm able to move around without the Entity noticing."

_So it's like how the Entity thinks my dad is me... except hers is a second her?_

The whole thing made his head hurt, so he tried not to think too hard on it. The realm was a confusing mess as it were, it was best to just accept things as they were and try not to question it too much, or it'd drive you insane.

"Is your doppelganger on our side?"

"Yes, I've been working with her for a few years, but I'd rather not discuss it." She pointed upward towards the ceiling, and Dwight understood that he needed to drop the subject immediately before too much information was overheard. "We'll talk about this later. You should get some rest." She smiled softly. "I'm glad you're safe, Dwight."

——

Resting was easier said than done. The house itself wasn't the problem, but the racing thoughts running through his head refused to allow him to fall asleep. Sick of staring at the ceiling of one of the guest bedrooms, Dwight had started to wander the halls, looking for something to take his mind off of things.

Dwight considered himself extremely lucky that he was found when he was, but he wished it wasn't always the case. Having to rely on everyone else to hold his hand and lead him in the right direction, all of the time, was beginning to wear on his ego. There had to be something he could do to help without someone telling him to do it.

Dwight removed the amulet from his pocket once more and analyzed the intrinsic design as if it would somehow tell him what to do, but alas, it was only an accessory. That's what he thought until he reached a gallery filled with paintings and other artifacts. The amulet began to feel hot, but not enough to burn his skin, just enough to grab his attention.

A room had been turned into a gallery of paintings and artifacts that Evan's parents or grandparents might have purchased before their passing.

Dwight walked into the room, holding onto the amulet as he browsed the collection of equally bizarre items displayed behind glass like it were a museum.

The wood creaked beneath his feet as he walked, making him paranoid that it would collapse and send a ton of heavy objects tumbling down on him. He stopped in front of a display case that contained several daggers and slates with bizarre designs etched into them like hieroglyphics. They were similar to those he saw in Vigo's journal and the one branded into his back, but none resembled the amulet.

Disappointed, Dwight pocketed it. He'd hope that something had been calling to it like a beacon, but if there was something in the gallery that was a match with it, Claudette and Evan probably already knew about it.

"The center painting is my favorite," said Claudette from the doorway, greeting him with a warm smile. "Evan painted it."

 _Evan?_ That surprised him; he certainly hadn't taken Evan for the artistic type.

The painting was hardly what he'd consider art, but who was he to say what art was. It looked like the universe, but not. As if the universe were a living creature, full of debris, stars, and planets with colors he didn't recognize. He wondered how in the world, he even created a color that looked brown yet blue at the same time. His eyes hurt, trying to depict what he was really looking at; however, examining the painting filled him with a sense of longing, a homesick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't explain.

Claudette joined his side as he contemplated his feelings towards the piece before Dwight eventually broke the silence.

"What is this room?" Dwight asked.

"When the miners found the artifacts, they were stored here," she said.

"When I passed this room, the amulet felt warmer. Do you have any idea why it might have done that?"

"It reacts to certain artifacts, but we haven't figured out why."

Claudette stepped away from the painting and motioned for him to follow her back towards the gallery entrance. He stole a second glance at the image before he left with no other reason to stay there. However, Dwight couldn't shake the unsettling sensation, as if something about the painting was more than just some nightmarish depiction of space. He wondered if that was the reason Claudette had pointed it out to him. Maybe she wanted him to feel the same weird atmosphere from it that he did. Why did Evan paint something like that?

As he passed through the gallery's entrance, something occurred to him. The visions, those horrible visual and auditory hallucinations that thing in the mines had forced him to endure. He'd seen something similar during that time, but what the connection was, he had no idea. Maybe Claudette knew.

"Claudette? Was there a reason you wanted me to see that painting?"

"I was hoping you'd know more about it," she confessed as they walked into the entryway of the house. "There's something _off_ about it. What I don't understand is how a painting could give off such ominous vibes. Makes me wonder if it's somehow connected with Xinlurgash."

"What about the paint? Have you tested it?"

"It's mixed with the serum," she said as they headed towards the hidden room. "Evan had to have painted with it for a reason, but he can't remember."

As the conversation died off, they made their way inside the secret laboratory. For the rest of the night, the room was filled with nothing but the two of them sitting in silence. Once Claudette got into whatever it was that she was doing, there was scarcely anything that could take her focus away from the task.

To make himself feel useful, Dwight started to look through the items and notes around the room, familiarize himself with them just if something were to happen to Claudette or if she were to need his assistance with anything.

Chemistry wasn't his strong suit, but he'd needed to study it if he hoped to make himself useful to them in the future. After all, things were brewing in the fog, growing at a never-ending pace and filled with unknown dangers. He wondered just how much longer they could keep this up, though. Before Xinlurgash eventually had enough of their nosing about and put an end to it.


	17. Chapter 17

Dwight had lost track of the days. They blended together into one long one due to his inability to fall asleep for longer than a few hours. At least at the bonfire, they could sleep, but it was as if something was actively preventing him from drifting off for long. However, that was a blessing in disguise. With the three of them working together, they’d made a lot of progress with the serum. Well, to say Dwight made any contribution would be an overstatement, but he put in most of the physical work while Evan was away.

Rapping his fingers against the table, Dwight watched for Evan from the window of the kitchen. Evan had been in the fog, searching for Danny for what felt like weeks, but he was losing any hope that he’d find him. Claudette had described the fog as a massive expanse, not unlike space itself. He wondered where it stopped, if it even did, and how far it reached. Why had no one discovered it before if it was there under their noses the entire time?

The fumes emanating from the laboratory had begun to make him feel nauseous, so Dwight headed outside for a breath of fresh air. It was chilly, like late autumn, inviting winter back home. Sitting on the front porch steps that had been rotted away and eaten by termites, there was still enough space for him to sit down. He watched the trees rustling in the wind, breaking free from their branches and dancing in the air before landing on the ground. How he wished he was a leaf. Fly away from everything.

_Stop._ He demanded himself, pressing his head into his hands. He’d been so hopeful not long before. He didn’t understand where it’d all gone. It felt as though every last shred of hope had been replaced with darkness trying to consume him. _Did she do this?_

Dwight knew that wasn’t true, he’d known depression for a lifetime, and it always reared it’s ugly head when things were beginning to look up, reminding him just how awful everything really was.

"I hate you," Dwight said, looking at the sky as if the Entity would answer him back.

It wasn't the first time he'd said it to her, and it wouldn't be the last. However, when there was no response, the anger began to boil again inside of him, and before he knew it, he was grabbing a loose brick from the yard and throwing it as hard as he could into the distance, aiming for the moon. Of course, it wasn’t going to do anything, but it made him feel a little better. Now he understood why David took all his rage out on the tire.

As Dwight picked up another brick, one of the trees in the forest collapsed, slamming into the dirt and sending the crows soaring into the air, cawing madly. Dwight watched, frozen until he saw a second tree beginning to tilt to the side. It was closer this time, and Dwight could feel the ground starting to rumble beneath his feet. For some reason, he couldn't move, only stare as he waited to see something hiding beyond the trees, but all he could make out was darkness and fog.

He waited, anticipating the worst to come crawling from the woods. When nothing happened, he breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever it was, it was gone now. He hoped.

“What was that sound?” Claudette asked from the porch door.

“I’m… not sure.” Dwight joined her on the porch, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from the area where he’d seen the trees topple over. “Something big by the sound of it.”

“We might be running out of time. Now that the camp’s gone, everyone was pushed out... there’s no telling what became of them.”

The grim look on Claudette's face was enough to say everything neither of them wanted to discuss. Not again. Dwight was aware of what could happen once you were lost in the void, having had it explained to him before by Danny when he'd nearly been taken by it himself. Disintegrated was a polite way of describing the way a black hole tore a person apart. At least, that was how he imagined it to be. It felt like months had gone by since that had happened. Maybe it had. He couldn't remember. Sometimes he thought he was losing some of his memories entirely since he'd left the camp. At least he still remembered what was important.

“I’d rather not find out,” said Dwight.

As he reached for the door, Dwight heard an unusual feral screech-like sound from behind them. It was coming from the woods, but not in the same direction the trees had fallen. Claudette heard it, too, sharing a glance with Dwight, but before either of them could say anything, the screeching started again.

Evan appeared from the woods, chain in hand, as he dragged it behind him. Attached to it was one of his bear traps, which was clamped around Danny’s ankle. Dwight darted from the porch, ignoring Claudette as she called after him. He didn’t hear what she said, but he could tell that something was wrong as he got closer.

Danny’s arms had been restrained behind him, and his veins glowed visibly vibrant orange beneath his skin as he struggled against being dragged by Evan. It became apparent to Dwight that those sounds had been coming from him. There was something wrong with Danny. Not only because of the sounds he was making or the discoloration of his skin, but he behaved like a wild animal. Gnashing his teeth and growling as if he had no idea who any of them were.

"Wha-what happened to him?" Dwight asked once Evan got closer. He didn't think it was the void's doing; Danny's body was still in one piece. His mind, however, Dwight wasn't so sure.

“The fog,” Evan said as if that would clear up any questions Dwight had. It didn’t. Nothing about that statement answered any questions he had bouncing around inside his head, but Evan continued past, dragging Danny towards the house as if he had nothing left to say to him.

Dwight followed after him, filled with unwavering dread as he hurried to the front door. Claudette was nowhere in sight. Evan didn’t bother lifting Danny as he dragged him up the small set of steps leading onto the porch, but thankfully Danny didn’t hit his head.

“Danny, stop.” Dwight’s voice was barely above a whisper as he watched the man he’d fallen in love with behaving like a starved animal, writhing and snarling as if he were rabid.

When Dwight snapped to his senses, he called out for Claudette, who quickly joined them in the entryway. The look on her face didn’t bring any calm his way, but he was relieved that she appeared to not be surprised by Danny’s current state.

"What's happening to him?" Dwight asked, unsure what to do as the two of them attempted to wrangle him down onto the floor. Claudette eventually straddled Danny’s hips, using all of her weight to keep him pinned to the ground while Evan swiftly secured the chain to the wall.

She'd only had him pinned for a mere second before he knocked her off like an angry bull. Dwight grabbed Danny by the shoulders, but Evan shoved him aside, taking over. He pinned Danny with ease as Claudette regained her balance and returned to the position she had been in before, keeping Danny’s lower half still.

“Dwight, he needs serum!” She said, pointing in the direction of the laboratory. She was almost thrown off again, but Evan steadied her with a free hand.

Not needing to be told twice, Dwight bolted into the laboratory, almost knocking over one of the many jars as he hastily snatched one of the dozens of filled syringes from the desk. 

Returning to the room, Evan’s hand was pressed squarely on Danny’s head, keeping him from sitting up and his head turned to the side. Dwight hastily handed Claudette the syringe in which she immediately administered, injecting the neon orange serum into Danny’s exposed neck. He shrieked, attempting to contort his body in a vain attempt at escaping their grasp, as though the fluid had ignited his insides on fire. Maybe it did; Dwight couldn’t remember feeling much of anything except for heat the last time he’d had a shot of the serum. If it was even the same mixture.

“Is he going to be okay?” Dwight asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

Claudette looked at Evan, but when he said nothing, she sighed softly and looked down at the weakening Danny, who eventually halted his struggle, exhausted by the serum’s effects.

“Is he going to be okay?” Dwight repeated, this time angrier than before.

“I don’t know.”

—

Danny had been left in the same room, in the same condition as he had been before. Evan and Claudette were outside, talking to one another as if they thought Dwight couldn’t overhear their hushed voices while he watched Danny from the doorway. Danny was covered in sweat, dirt, and what looked like dried, caked-on serum around his fingernails and lips.

_What the hell happened to you out there?_ he wondered, ignoring the two outside as they discussed what to do with Danny.

Leaving him wasn't an option; they needed him for something, but neither bothered to specify. Dwight wondered if they were hiding something from him, but he wasn't worried about that at the moment.

As if hearing his thoughts, Danny weakly lifted his head from the floor. His eyes were half-lidded, and he didn’t appear to have much strength or fight left in him. Dwight wanted nothing more than to go to him, but Claudette had warned against it. The blight corrupted everything it touched, and Danny had consumed too much of it.

_But, why? Why would he do that?_

Danny knew it was dangerous. The only situation in which Dwight could see Danny purposefully ingesting something that would make him lose control was if he had no choice in the matter. Survival. If Dwight knew one thing for sure about Danny, power and control was everything to him.

As Danny's head dropped back to the floor, Dwight took a cautious step forward but stayed out of range. They'd marked the floor with chalk, indicating where Danny's reach would stop; however, Danny didn't look like he had the strength to move, let alone make any attempt to attack him.

“Danny?” Dwight tried. He refused to believe he wasn’t the same person. If he was looking at him, maybe he recognized him. “Can you hear me?”

He stood right at the edge of the chalk line, but there was no response. Cautiously, Dwight stepped over the line, and Danny lunged at him, clawing towards his face with an inhuman noise. Dwight instantly fell back with a gasp, but Danny was yanked to the ground by the chain pulling his leg out from beneath him. The look on Danny’s face reminded him of a wounded animal, cornered and daring anyone to get any closer. And then it softened.

“I…” Danny tried to speak, but it was like he was struggling just to remain in control. He pressed his forehead against the floor, groaning as he gritted his teeth together, slamming his head against the wood once.

Dwight swallowed hard as he gaped at Danny. He didn't want to see him like that; seeing him reduced to a shell of his former self was horrifying. The Entity held that kind of power, to turn someone with so much strength into whatever he'd become.

“Leave… me.”

“No,” Dwight said as he attempted to steady his voice, sitting up on the floor behind the chalk line. He shook his head as Danny lifted his head to look at him, his expression strained as he appeared to be struggling against something. “I’m not leaving you.”

There wasn’t anywhere for him to go, and even if there was, Dwight wasn’t going to abandon him. Whatever was happening to Danny, Dwight wasn’t going to let him go through it alone. Even if he was scared shitless, he couldn’t run away from the person in front of him. It was still Danny. Hearing him speak proved as much - he was still in there.

—

Dwight was startled awake by the sound of a heavy thud to his left. Lifting his head from his arm, draped over his knee as a makeshift pillow, Dwight looked in the direction the sound had come from. Evan had dropped a sack of something onto the floor by the doorway; judging by the stench, he didn’t want to know what it was.

Wiping the sand from his eyes, Dwight pulled himself to his feet and stole a glance at Danny to check on him. He couldn’t see him, but the chain gave away his position behind the couch.

Evan dropped another burlap sack he’d brought in from outside, leaving it next to the other. It smelt vaguely of yeast and metal, overpowering the stench of the other one. As Evan went to leave again, Dwight decided to speak up before he missed his chance to help.

“Wait, let me help.” 

He couldn’t sit around watching Danny forever. It wasn’t productive, and it wasn’t going to help them get them anywhere. He’d learned too much in the last few years than to just sit on his butt and hope things worked out in the end.

Without answering, Evan headed outside; Dwight followed. Evan rarely said much, and when he did, it wasn't anything nice, but the anti-social behemoth had good intentions. Dwight got the sense Evan was just angry at the situation they were all in, in general. He didn't blame him.

“What’s in these?” Dwight asked, lifting one of the many burlap sacks from the back of an old wooden wagon.

“Campers. What’s left of them.”

Dwight dropped the bag and stepped away from it, his face feeling like ice all of a sudden. He imagined he looked like a ghost. Evan chuckled behind his mask, fitting the original moniker they’d given him. Chuckles.

“Ingredients for Clo,” Evan said.

Dwight breathed a sigh of relief when he realized Evan was messing with him. He lifted the bag once again before grabbing another. It was much heavier than the last one, which had been practically the weight of a bag of ice, nearly making him lose grip of it at first. He wondered what in the world Claudette could possibly need that was so heavy.

“Why do you call her Clo?” Dwight asked as he followed him inside, attempting to get to know the guy he’d barely spoken to in the years he’d been in the Entity’s realm.

“Shorter than Claudette.”

_Right, a man of few words._

Dropping the bags next to the others in the entryway, he spotted Danny laying on the couch with his back to them. 

“Leave him alone,” Evan said, turning to leave for more bags.

Dwight reluctantly did.

—

“Danny, stop!” Dwight demanded.

Dwight grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away from Claudette. He'd hurt her, bad, clawing her across her face and leaving a nasty gash across her right cheekbone. It'd been pure luck he'd missed her eye.

"Hold him down," she said, grabbing for the syringe that had been knocked from her hands.

It'd been a bad idea to attempt to administer the serum without Evan, but Danny had gotten worse. He'd pulled at the chain and ropes, clawing at the bear trap, even his own leg, in an attempt to get free no matter the cost of damage to his own body. The serum brought him to his senses. Stabilized him.

Dwight pinned Danny to the floor by the wrists, struggling against his strength, but it was just enough for Claudette to inject him and back away, barely dodging another swipe at her face when Danny got a hand free from Dwight’s grasp. Dwight pinned his wrist again, gritting his teeth as he fought against him.

“Are you okay?” Dwight asked, directing the question at Claudette, but at the same time hoping that Danny would be the one to respond. Anything but snarls and gnashing of teeth.

“I’m fine. We need something stronger,” Claudette said, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she picked up the rope he’d slashed his way out of for the second time. His nails were getting too sharp, growing at a rate that couldn’t be normal. “I’ll be back!”

“Hurry, I don’t think I can hold him much longer!”

—

“I miss you,” Dwight whispered, brushing the hair from Danny’s pale, sweat-covered forehead. He blinked away the tears that brimmed his eyes as he watched Danny lay in a fevered, comatose state for the fourth day in a row. It was better than watching him suffer, but it wasn’t much better.

Whatever Claudette had done to the mixture, it was working to keep his feral behavior at bay, but he wasn’t so sure it was any closer to curing him. They weren’t any closer to finding a way out. Dwight was beginning to lose hope.

Sighing, he double-checked the handcuffs around Danny's wrists secured to the metal headboard of an old bed on the second floor. The handcuffs had been the only thing that Danny hadn't managed to slip out of when he turned hostile, but Dwight wasn't sure how much longer that would last. Danny had already tried to break his own wrists; it was only a matter of time before he got his hands out.

“I can’t control it,” whispered Danny, his voice low and hoarse.

Dwight's stomach dropped, but his heart leaped into his throat at the sound of his voice. As he looked at Danny's face, he'd almost expected to have imagined it, but his eyes were open.

“Danny?” Dwight cupped his cheek, turning Danny’s head to look at him. “Are you..?”

_Don’t get your hopes up._

"Tell me how to help you," Dwight said, attempting to keep his voice steady.

He didn't know how much time he had. As much as he wanted to talk to him, kiss him, and tell him how much he was glad he was alright, they needed Danny's help. Danny's eyes fluttered closed again. "Danny? Please, talk to me. I don't know what to do."

“Am…” Danny tried to say, but he muttered the last part of the sentence, losing what strength he had to speak.

“Am?” He ran his brain in circles, trying to figure out what in the world he was trying to say before coming to the conclusion that he might have meant the amulet.

Dwight retrieved it from the inside of his shirt, staring hard at the intricate design as if it would spell out the answer for him. When it didn’t, he let it drop back into his shirt and placed another kiss against Danny’s forehead.

“I’m going to figure this out. I promise.”


	18. Chapter 18

Turning the amulet over in his hand, Dwight contemplated his next move as he sat across from Claudette at her desk in the laboratory. She was curious about what Danny had said but equally confused about how the amulet would cure him of his illness. It was just a piece of metal, and unless the symbol itself had some kind of power, there was no way to really use it to heal anything. Besides, if the amulet really had that kind of power, it would have done something by now, Dwight figured.

“So, do we perform an exorcism?” Dwight asked, half-joking, but they were running out of ideas. Another day or two had passed, but things weren’t looking up for Danny. He was rarely awake, and when he was, he was hardly himself.

Shadows of doubt and fear clouded his thoughts, but Dwight focused on the task at hand while remaining vigilant. Rallying what confidence he had left, Dwight sat up straight and laid the amulet on the desk between them, wracking his brain in an attempt to come up with anything that might help.

“You said the amulet could ‘turn back the clock.’ What did you mean by that?”

They hadn’t discussed the amulet much, aside from their initial conversation back at the old campgrounds. There’d been too much happening that Dwight had simply forgotten to bring it back up to her. It hadn’t really been necessary until more recently.

“It’s a key,” she said. “At least, that’s what Vigo thought it was. He’s been translating old text; you can see for yourself here.” Claudette retrieved a journal from inside the desk, it looked similar to the one he and Danny had before, but this one had red leather instead of brown. “Vigo thought it might unlock the clock tower. Apparently, the same symbol is engraved into the door. If we could fit it in there, it might unlock it.”

“Where’s the tower?”

Claudette seemed to hesitate, looking at the journal on the desk as she appeared to be deciding whether or not she wanted to tell him the clock tower's location.

“It’s in the fog. Even if you managed to find it on your own, it’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t care.”

Dwight did care, he cared very much about his safety, but this wasn’t just about him. He couldn’t be selfish. If Dwight could gather his nerve and summon the courage necessary to push forward, he knew that he would be capable of just about anything. He couldn’t die, so there was nothing to be afraid of.

Claudette sighed. "It's near Léry's. If you can find Léry's, you can find the tower; however, the tower's gate is locked with a keycard. We haven't managed to find one yet."

“The Doctor has it, I think.”

Dwight wasn’t positive, but he recalled finding one on his person when Danny had beaten him down in the bunker. The Doctor seemed hellbent on getting it back, no matter the cost, and Dwight didn’t think he would just hand it over if they asked politely. He certainly had no intention of doing so before.

“Does the bunker connect to the hospital by any chance?”

Claudette leaned back in her chair, considering the question, but she ultimately shrugged. Dwight sighed softly, but Claudette offered some information regardless.

“If it does, Evan would know. He knows those tunnels better than anyone.”

“Where is he?”

——

The yard was cloaked in a thin fog as Dwight made his way around back to the old shed. Before he could even get close, he caught a whiff of oil and burning metal, followed by the sound of iron being scorched together with a blow torch. Working in a factory paid good money, though it was hard work, and that sound was distinctive enough that Dwight remembered it after however long it'd been since he was a teenager. Evan was definitely in there doing something; he just hoped he didn't mind being disturbed.

Dwight stopped outside the door, opening it just a crack to peer inside at Evan bent over a metal workbench, molding something. Sparks flew from the metal, lighting the room as if someone had set off a firecracker.

If Evan heard him enter the workshop, he didn’t bother to turn around as he shut off and set aside the blowtorch. He lifted his welding mask, and Dwight could see his sweat-drenched face before he turned away to retrieve his usual mask from the hook he’d hung it on. He looked human, but his face was severely scarred and damaged from a variety of wounds. One scar stood out the most; it led from beneath his right eye, passed his nose, and through his lips. Dwight wondered what happened, but Evan spotted him staring before he had a chance to think about it too much.

“Sorry,” said Dwight, rubbing the back of his neck as he averted his eyes. “Claudette said I could find you out here.”

Evan hesitated before putting his mask back on, securing it to his head before he bothered to talk to Dwight.

"What do you want?" Evan asked, although he didn't sound as impatient or annoyed as he'd imagined he would.

"Right." Dwight cleared his throat, feeling as if he'd walked in on something he wasn't meant to see. He glanced back at Evan, who was now fiddling with a cylinder-shaped object on the workbench. "I was wondering if the bunker in the mines connected to Léry's institute?"

Evan paused, then continued on with what he was doing. Dwight wondered if it were another one of his traps, but it didn't take Dwight long to realize it was some kind of homemade bomb made out of a tin can. Thankfully the ingredients weren't in there, or they'd all be blown to smithereens when he used the torch on it. Good thing Evan wasn't stupid.

Dwight thought Evan wasn't going to respond, but as he seemed satisfied with his newest invention that he set aside next to three others, he turned to face him.

“I’m going with you,” said Evan.

“W-wait, you don’t even know what I’m going to do.”

“The Ghost Face failed; what makes you think you can do it alone?”

He had a point, but Dwight didn't want to be responsible for anyone else's suffering. If the Entity noticed him, at least it would just be him being tortured, not Evan. Even if he were just another killer who hunted them down in the trials, Evan was still a person with a somewhat reliable conscience. He didn't believe Evan was genuinely evil, at least, he wasn't at that very moment. However, Dwight needed a guide; he wasn't dumb enough to think he could go in there with a map and a prayer and make it to Léry's without any additional guidance or backup.

"I want you to come," said Dwight. "I know I can't do this alone, but I don't want Claudette to put herself in danger by going with me. Besides, it looks like you're inventing something neat over there. Were you already planning to go from the start?"

He wasn't sure where this confidence was coming from, but he liked it. Talking to Evan felt easier the longer he did it, and there was something about the man that made him feel comfortable when he wasn't hunting him.

"Perhaps."

Evan retrieved one of the tin cans from the workbench and held it out to him. Up close, he could tell it was more akin to homemade dynamite. A long, dirty string had been attached and fed through the inside from a hole at the top. At the bottom, a door, currently latched shut, appeared to be where you would insert the ingredients. Even without the damage from the explosion itself, the shrapnel would be just as dangerous. Dwight made a mental note that he would have to make sure he was behind something when they set it off, not only keep his distance.

“Do you have everything to make it work?” Dwight asked, handing it back to him carefully.

“Need powdered sulfur,” he said. “Clo knows how to make it.”

“Great, so we can defend ourselves with these. Right?”

Evan shrugged, leaving Dwight a little deflated as Evan set the tin-can back on the workbench. He seemed to be thinking about something, and Dwight wished he was a mind reader or that Evan would think aloud, so he knew what was going on inside his head.

“If we use these in the mines, it will collapse,” Evan said. “There will be no way out.” He turned to look at Dwight, and Dwight could feel his grave stare through the darkness of the eye shaped holes. “We deaden the Entity with this.”

"But, I thought she couldn't be killed."

"I didn't say we were going to kill it."

Dwight lifted a brow, unsure if what he was planning would work, but Evan had been in the realm a lot longer than he had. He recalled his conversation in the forest with Claudette, remembering that she’d told him that they had to go back in time. It sounded ridiculous at that moment, but maybe there was a way to stop her without killing her.

"So…" Dwight thought a moment before continuing. "We use these to weaken her after we go to the past... and then what?"

"I'll explain what to do when we get there. If we get there."

“Okay, but how do we stop what’s happening to Danny?” The excitement he’d felt at the possibility of a real plan to take on the Entity, to maybe even kill her and escape, had emptied like a pricked balloon when he remembered that Danny, and the other survivors who may be suffering the same fate in the fog, might not be saved.

“Find out when we get there,” he said, leaving it at that as he turned back to his workstation to begin crafting another can of dynamite.

Dwight didn’t push it further, figuring it would only serve to irritate him. Leaving the shed, he returned to Danny’s room, where Claudette was checking on his condition. She wasn’t a doctor by any means, but she was the closest thing they had to one.

"How is he?" Dwight asked, keeping his voice low to not startle her since her back was to him.

"Some improvements," she said, smiling through her visible exhaustion. "Did you find Evan?"

"Yeah, he's got a plan." Dwight stopped at the end of the bed and rested his hand on the footboard's metal bar. He was awake, looking at the wall beside him, but he was conscious, and he wasn't attacking her. That was definitely an improvement. "We're gonna use bombs for… something. Evan knows what he's doing, I guess."

Dwight didn’t particularly trust his plan, Evan never gave him any reason to trust him, but there wasn’t much choice in the matter. This was the only chance he had to make things right. If going to the clock tower could undo all the horror and suffering they’d been put through, then Dwight didn’t care if it killed him for real. As long as it saved people, put an end to the nightmare. Even temporarily.

“When are you leaving?” Claudette asked.

“He didn’t say.”

“I’d like to try something before you do. I’ve been giving the Ghost Face an experimental serum based on the one Vigo was mixing to be a counter agent against the blight.”

Dwight furrowed his brows, ready to scold her for experimenting on Danny without his or Dwight’s consent, but it wasn’t as if there ever was much consent to begin with. Dwight felt a little bit ashamed for assuming he could consent for Danny to start with. It was to save his life, and with Danny in and out of consciousness, he probably didn’t realize anything was happening.

“Is it working?” Dwight asked cautiously.

“He seems to be improving, but It’s only temporary. He needs constant injections to keep it at bay. There’s no chance of him traveling in this condition. I’ll stay here with him.” Claudette paused but continued before Dwight could say anything, her head dropping to her chest as if she were ashamed of what she was about to say. “Promise you’ll come back for me, too.”

Taken aback by her words, Dwight was surprised that Claudette would even assume he wouldn’t come back for her. She was his friend, not just someone who was helping them get out. Dwight considered them, and the other survivors, including his father, in the situation together. He would get everyone out.

“Of course, I’ll return. For both of you!” Dwight placed his hands on her shoulders, and she lifted her head to look at him. “We’re both getting out of this mess; if anyone deserves to go home, it’s you.”

After the amount of work Claudette had put into the entire operation, there was no way in hell he’d ever think about leaving her. Evan and Danny, too. Dwight knew he’d been along for the ride, and the only reason he was getting a chance at freedom was that he’d become Danny’s obsession. If it hadn’t been for him, he’d be trapped in the fog with the others. And if it hadn’t been for Evan and Claudette, Danny wouldn’t be involved, either. He owed Claudette and Evan more than he could ever describe.

Perhaps even Vigo, too. Wherever he was or whatever he had become - if he hadn’t begun his research, then none of it would have been possible. So many bread crumbs had all lead up to the moment they all waited for. He only wished he could find Vigo and bring him along, too. Hell, perhaps he was the one who truly deserved it.

“Thanks,” Claudette said softly, a small smile returning to her lips. “I’ll keep an eye on him while you’re gone.”

“Thank you, Claudette. For everything. You have no idea how grateful I am.”

As Dwight turned to leave, he stopped and faced her once again. Something was bothering him about the amulet. Why was he the one who had to carry it to the clock tower? Danny had given it to him, then Evan, and now it was his responsibility. But, no one ever explained to him why. He'd just accepted the burden because he felt like it was something he had to do.

“Hey, Claudette, why did you give me the amulet back? Don’t you need it?”

She shook her head, no. “I’m needed here, and if Evan touches it, it burns him. You’re the only one left who can do this now that the Ghost Face is unable to finish his part.”

“Danny… his name is Danny.”

——

The days leading up to their departure had been uneventful, although Dwight could feel a cloud looming overhead. Figuratively, but something felt wrong; off. He was beginning to change his mind, but he just needed to get the amulet to the clock tower, and then he could leave. 

Dwight doubted he would choose to leave once it was finished, though. Evan needed his help with the Entity, and Dwight would want to see things through to the end. He knew himself better than that. He may be a coward, but determination got him through life as far as it had, and it would do the same in hell.

Evan was waiting for him at the bottom of the porch steps, checking his weapon over, that familiar blade that sent an instinctual shiver up Dwight's spine. Would the knife even help, or was he just doing it for something to do while he waited for Dwight to grow some balls and leave the entryway.

_I’m so fucking scared,_ He thought, leaving the safety of the house to join Evan against every fiber of his being screaming at him to stay with Danny and Claudette. It was becoming too real now that it was happening.

He hadn’t said goodbye to Danny. He refused to do that because he was coming back with help. It felt too final, in more ways than one, to even say those words. Danny didn’t need to know he was leaving, he was barely conscious, and Dwight doubted he would even realize he was gone in his condition. 

Dwight exhaled as he reached the bottom of the steps.

“I’m ready,” he said.

“Got the amulet?”

Dwight nodded, gripping the amulet in his hand as if it would protect him like some kind of religious item, prepared for his self-inflicted nightmare. He had the choice to stay with Claudette, but that was the coward’s road, and Dwight was no longer allowing cowardice to embrace him like the destructive vice it’d been all his life.

“Let’s go,” said Dwight.


	19. Chapter 19

The woods had changed since they’d been gone; the fog was thicker than before, thick to the point that it almost felt as though Dwight were breathing in a cloud of thick smog, and he could taste burning coal. Evan didn’t seem bothered by it as he continued through the tree lines with little to no interest in their surroundings. It was as if he knew exactly where he was going, but that was impossible due to the realm's randomness.

Although Dwight was scared, he tried his best not to show it in front of Evan. He wondered if this was how the others felt in trials. Like David, surely they were terrified out of their minds, but by looking at them, you wouldn’t know it. Stoic as always, pushing through without letting anyone know they were struggling. He felt that way right now, wearing a mask of determination as he followed beside Evan, not behind.

Dwight began to realize that the area was becoming more barren the further they were from the estate. The trees there were either toppled over or cut like someone had taken something sharp to the trunk. He hadn't heard a chainsaw recently, and judging by the markings through the bark, it was a clean-cut, nothing with teeth, almost like someone took a sharp blade to it.

He recalled the tree falling around the time he'd first reunited with Claudette and Evan. Since then, he hadn't thought much about it, but it probably would have been wise to bring it up to the others. After Danny had shown back up, he really didn't have much of anything on his mind except leaving the realm and getting him help somehow.

Evan didn’t seem to have any interest in it, keeping his pace and leaving Dwight behind if he lingered by the trees too long to investigate. They had a mission already. It wasn’t time to explore every little mystery they came across in the fog. If they did, they’d never reach the Entity. It put him on edge, however, and judging by the tension in Evan's shoulders, he was, too. Who could blame him when they were both walking into the lion's den with nothing more than a bag full of bombs, flashlights, and Evan's big knife to protect themselves.

The further into the woods they headed, the air began to smell like a mixture of rotten eggs and sulfur. Dwight paused and turned around, shining his flashlight in a southeast direction as a prickly sensation ascended his spine. Intuition, maybe, but he felt like he was being watched from the shadows. They'd been out there for hours, maybe days, it was impossible to know for sure, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that something had started to stalk them recently.

“Evan,” said Dwight. He kept his voice low but loud enough for Evan to hear him. “Someone’s out there.”

Evan turned to look in the direction Dwight's beam pointed but said nothing. Dwight didn't see anything among the tree line, but there was no doubt that they weren't alone. Regardless of how invisible the presence was, Dwight could occasionally make out the distinct sound of twigs snapping and leaves crinkling beneath footsteps. He'd been seasoned against the stalkers in the trials, and for a brief moment, he wondered if it were Michael Myers.

“Let’s go,” said Evan.

“Yeah.”

There was no point in standing around waiting for whatever it was to come waltzing out of the woods and introduce themselves; however, Dwight remained on edge as he continued to follow Evan, continuously glancing over his shoulder as if he’d catch a glimpse of the predator stalking them. He also considered the possibility that it might be the Wraith, but the Wraith usually made no sound.

Dwight bumped into Evan's outstretched arm with a faint grunt, so he turned his attention back to Evan and then ahead of them. There was a body, two of them. Even with distorted facial features, Dwight recognized the clothes as belonging to Kate and David. He frowned, figuring they must have met up along the way at some point. Their skin appeared a wax-like pallor that confirmed from a distance that they were dead without getting too close. Even if he hated to see his friends like that, at least they weren't currently suffering. He wondered where they would end up now that the camp was gone; however, he stopped the thought process before it could continue before he scared himself more than he already was.

"It's Kate and David," said Dwight once Evan hadn't lowered his arm.

"I know," he said. "There's one more against the tree."

He shone his flashlight at the tree in which Evan was looking, and Dwight realized he'd been staring at it the entire time. A cold flash ran through his body as he saw Henry, wrapped around the bark like a stretched piece of taffy. Henry's eyes were milky white, but he appeared to know that someone was there as Dwight took a cautious step forward when Evan eventually lowered his arm. Evan grabbed him by the back of the neck and held him in place. Dwight didn't question it as he winced from the man's tight grip.

It wasn't that he was concerned about Henry in any way, but the fact that he was still alive, and in the condition he was, bothered him. How? How could he possibly be alive when he barely looked human anymore?

Henry, or whatever he'd become, peeled himself away from the tree, pulling the limbs, sticks, and mislaid tools from the ground all around them. Dwight felt something brush against his leg, and upon looking down, he noticed it was some sort of massive tendril not unlike the one that had chased him through the mines after he'd encountered that creature.

Stepping away from it, the tendril began to search around, slipping into the corpses of David and Kate, dragging others he didn't recognize from behind the trees and pulling them into himself like some kind of walking mixing vat. Dwight turned, covering his mouth as he bent over, nearly hurling at the sight of what was happening in front of them. Conversion. He didn't want to look. He refused to look.

Dwight was forcefully shoved to the side, knocked to the ground with a none too soft impact on his arm. He winced, grabbing his arm protectively as he rolled over and heard the pop of gunfire. The bullet struck against a tree that had already been damaged, producing enough force to knock it over.

Dwight saw that the monster in front of them could no longer be considered human as he got to his feet. The faces were still there, warped and pulled, a variety of different hair colors and even teeth aligned its surface mass, which oozed of blight. It was as if it had used their bodies like molding clay. It had one human arm, which the revolver was fused into, and where the shot had come from. The other looked to be similar to the entity's spider-like limbs. Even analyzing it, Dwight could barely comprehend what he was looking at.

“He used blight,” said Evan, interrupting his shocked, zoned-out stupor.

“Yeah... Henry said he knew someone on the other side. Do you know who that might be?” Dwight was trembling, but he needed to remain focused and composed. He couldn’t let his fear get the better of him.

“Yes. Don’t matter now.”

It did matter. Someone was out there supplying people with blight for whatever reason. To survive in the fog? Maybe. But without Vigo or Claudette's influence, the blight was dangerous.

"It does matter, but we can talk about it later," said Dwight.

Evan grunted and stepped towards the creature, his machete at his side. Dwight had nothing, nothing but the bombs, but they couldn’t use those. Dwight was good at running, but he didn’t feel right about leaving Evan to deal with his dad alone. Gritting his teeth, Dwight looked around for something, anything that could be used as a weapon; however, he was interrupted by a spiked appendage ripping through his shoulder and pinning him to the tree.

Dwight cried out, gripping the appendage to remove it; however, the arm pulled away, slicing open the palms of his hands in the process. He dropped to the ground and groaned as he clutched his shoulder. The hole was barely thicker than a pencil, but it hurt like hell. He couldn't stand around and keep getting hit by those. Dwight scooted around the tree to use it for cover, gritting his teeth to endure the pain as the wound began to burn. 

Peering around the trunk to see if Evan was fairing any better, the man was so full of spikes that there was no way he could survive it, and yet he was. It was like watching a gladiator battle an elephant. No matter how many times the monster stabbed, sliced, or shot him, Evan continued fighting the thing as if nothing had happened. It had to hurt, though, but with the mask, Dwight couldn't tell what expression he held on his face.

Evan ripped off one of its arms, but it was soon replaced by one of the body parts lying around. Its tendrils were stealing them up and sewing them into itself like some kind of patchwork doll. Looking at the bag he now held between his legs, an idea came to mind. 

Bait. Dwight needed a big enough lure to make the monster go after it and into some kind of trap. He knew he wouldn't last long in a chase out in the open, and Evan currently had his hands full, but there had to be something. He wished he was smarter. Dwight felt like they were playing a chess game where he was a pawn trying to escape a rook while the knight kept it in check. Dwight always was terrible at chess. He wished Danny was there; he'd probably know what to do.

Dwight sighed dejectedly and looked ahead at the number of bodies still strewn along the ground throughout the woods. He counted three. None that he recognized, but the body parts could work. It wasn’t something he wanted to do, but the creature seemed to like absorbing body parts. He could use that to his advantage.

Lifting one of the bombs from the bag, Dwight hurried off into the woods before the monster saw him. It was reckless, not to mention dangerous and stupid, but he saw no other way.

_C’mon, Evan, hold up just a little bit longer._

He grabbed one of the bodies by the arms and dragged it further into the woods. It was a lot heavier than he was expecting it to be. Even though the person didn't look too muscular, it was like dragging a sack of potatoes around.

Once he was sure he was far enough away, he dropped it near some underbrush but made sure to leave it visible so that the monster would notice it.

_I only get one minute,_ Dwight thought. He retrieved Danny’s box of matches from his pants pocket. There were only two left, but he only needed one.

The next part would be challenging, but he didn't know what else to do if it didn't work. He just hoped to God he didn't get caught in the blast when the bomb went off.

When Dwight returned, Evan was on the ground. Even with the number of wounds that he was enduring, Evan continued to stand and face the monster head-on. If Dwight had enough time to admire it, he'd be in awe at his strength to withstand the damage.

“Evan! This way,” Dwight called out, waving him over towards the tree line he stood in front of. He intended to grab both of their attentions.

Evan seemed to hesitate, but as Dwight darted off, he inevitably followed. Dwight could hear his heavy boots stomping behind as he and the creature encroached upon him.

Dwight scrambled to the bodies and struck the match against the grey sheet on the side of the box. It took a couple tries, but the match's head eventually lit, and he quickly set the homemade dynamite's string alight.

“Cut something off it!” ordered Dwight.

Evan seemed to get the gist of what he was doing, but he couldn't tell if he was happy about it behind the mask. Judging by the frustrated huff he exhaled, it was likely a no; however, as the creature got closer, Evan went in for the attack, ignoring the appendage that struck him through his stomach.

Dwight rushed to cover behind a faraway tree and hoped he'd gotten far enough away. They hadn't tested the dynamite, but Evan assured it was powerful enough to rip a person apart. Dwight was grateful he never used those in the trials. The Entity seemed to prefer tp drag out their suffering, so she probably didn't allow it.

Peering around the trunk of the tree, Dwight saw Evan slicing through the appendage that'd stabbed through him to free himself. The monster roared, reeling back as one of it's 'heads' were soon removed as well. It hadn't been necessary, but Dwight got the feeling it was more personal. Blight oozed from the monster's wounds, but just as Dwight had hoped, the creature's tendrils went out in search of a replacement.

As Evan bolted for a tree near Dwight, the creature stole the bodies from every which way, and for a moment, Dwight thought it wouldn't take the one it needed to, but eventually, it did. It fused the corpses' flesh into its own body, regenerating itself as if nothing had ever been lost.

Within seconds, the dynamite was triggered, exploding with a bang so loud it rocked his eardrums, threatening to rupture them as he covered his ears with his hands.

As he tried to shake the ringing from his head, his arm was grabbed forcefully by Evan, who ripped him from his hiding spot and made a run for it. Their window of opportunity to escape was slim as the creature's tendrils began to snake from its mottled form, attempting to recover itself once more. But Dwight's feet carried him too fast to observe the creature for long as he chased after Evan into the thick of the woods, back where they'd initially found the monster.

By the time they'd passed the tree he'd seen his father attached to, his lungs were on fire, but he pushed himself to the limit until finally, Evan stopped, and Dwight knelt over, panting heavily. Dwight grabbed his chest as his heart thudded against it painfully, ignoring the burning sting from the cuts on the palm of his hand.

“Did- Did we lose it?” Dwight asked between sharp intakes of breaths.

Evan was silent as he scoped the area behind them, and Dwight listened intently for any sound of the monster making a pursuit after them.

“Looks clear,” said Evan.

“Oh, thank God.” Dwight breathed a heavy sigh of relief and allowed himself to fall back on his ass to rest his feet and legs for a moment.

“You wasted that bomb.”

“I think I saved our lives, actually.”

“If that’s what you think you did, so be it. Let’s go.”

Evan was definitely pissed; Dwight could hear the growl in his voice. It had to be done, though, that monster was regenerating too quick for them to escape, and Dwight had made a call he thought he had to. He'd do it again. With the creature out of the way, they could get to the mines without any trouble. They'd have to deal with whatever lay in wait below, but for the time being, he felt safe.

Evan looked like hell, though. He could only imagine what would've happened to the both of them if things hadn't worked out.

"Sorry." Dwight stood and brushed the dirt from the back of his pants. "But, I'm not apologizing for using the bomb. I didn't see any other choice."

Evan scoffed. "You're different than you were in the trials."

"You can thank Danny for that."

Dwight walked past him, into the direction of the mineshaft up ahead. He heard a chuckle from behind before Evan's footsteps ultimately matched his own.


	20. Chapter 20

Dwight had assumed that he would be retracing the steps he'd made several times already; however, he didn't recognize the landmarks within the system. It looked vastly different than the ones he'd seen previously. Dwight felt as if he'd been inside a cave enough times that it didn't feel unusual, but he had hoped that this would be the last time he'd ever have to enter one. 

The two sat just inside the mineshaft, Dwight wrapping his hands with some medical bandages he'd found in an old med-kit on the way there. Evan had declined any, saying they would just heal on their own eventually. There hadn’t been any blood, not even after Evan had removed the bullets from his body. There was nothing, not even a black, tar-like ooze he’d seen spilling out from the cracks of the basement or the blight. Was Evan even alive, or was he like some kind of walking golem kept alive by dark magic?

“What?” Evan asked.

“Nothing,” said Dwight, his eyes widening. He felt his face warm with embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to stare at him that hard; it was just so interesting to see the killers up close without the threat of death. Sure there was Danny, but Evan felt like a different monster entirely. “I was just wondering why you weren’t bleeding.”

“I don’t have any blood to bleed.”

Dwight wasn't surprised in the least to hear him say that, and as he scanned the various tools in his body, it almost made him feel empathy for the killers. Could they even die? Thinking back to the trials, some didn't even appear to get any enjoyment out of what they were doing as if they weren't given much choice.

“Danny mentioned once that the Entity tortured him. Is that something that happens to all the killers?”

Dropping the last bullet from his shoulder, Evan chuckled as a response without elaborating on what it was supposed to mean. Dwight was beginning to worry this was a terrible idea. What happens when they failed? Nothing good. Looking at the state of Evan and Danny’s bodies, Dwight could only imagine what she’d do to him, too. Would she turn him into some mindless killing machine like the Hag? He recalled her being somewhat lucid when he’d first arrived, but her mind had decayed so much she was nothing more than a rabid animal. He shuddered. There were definitely some things that were worse than death.

“Losing your nerve?” Evan asked.

“Pardon?”

“Pull it together. I won’t wait for you.”

“Got it…”

Dwight sighed and pulled himself to his feet, collecting his courage as he soon followed Evan down an inclined shaft, careful not to lose his footing on the debris. It was a little bit caved in, but not too bad that he couldn’t keep his balance.

No matter how many times he entered the mines, Dwight never got used to the feeling that he wasn’t welcomed there. It was like a whisper invading his mind, telling him he needed to run. Maybe that was just instinct. He stared at Evan’s back as he walked in front of him this time; the shaft was too narrow to walk side by side as they had been in the woods. The further they got, the lower the ceiling became, and the two of them had to bend over as they walked.

“Watch for rats,” said Evan.

Dwight searched the ground for any sign of rats but saw nothing at the moment. Dwight thought it was uncharacteristically nice of Evan to warn him, however. Maybe he really did have a conscience in there.

As they reached the end of the tunnel, there was only a hole that looked like it was chiseled out for a child, not a grown adult, to walk through. Recalling his history class, that was probably exactly what it was used for. Just below the opening was a cart filled with coal that had a rope attached to it. It didn’t take him long to spot the skeletal remains that the cord was semi secured around like a belt.

The sound of Evan climbing into the hole pulled his attention from the body, and Dwight quickly followed after him. It was narrow, but he could just crawl on his hands and knees, although he couldn't see past Evan, who was about two feet in front of him. Evan's arms were just brushing against the walls' sides, whereas Dwight had enough room to turn around if he wanted to. The tunnel definitely wasn't meant for someone of Evan's size.

"Have you been this way before?" Dwight asked. "It feels like every time I come here, the layout is different. Is she doing it?"

"No. You're coming from a different entrance." Evan sounded annoyed by the question as if he was getting sick of answering them. He probably was by now. Dwight knew he shouldn't take his patience for granted, but he couldn’t help it.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

Dwight winced, the wounds on his hands burning with every amount of pressure he put on them. His shoulder throbbed with a burning sensation, too, but there wasn’t much he could do about it at the moment.

"Sorry, but I have another question," said Dwight, ducking his head as the space between the ceiling and floor shortened.

"What?"

"Those bunkers under the mines, what were they used for?"

He couldn't shake it from his mind, finding those beds and medical supplies down there as if someone had put up a hospital or something. Even the Doctor had access to it, so there had to be some kind of connection from the Hospital, wasn't there? Unless it was pure coincidence that he had followed them down there. No, he and Claudette had come to the conclusion that everything was connected. That was why he was here.

He wondered why he'd forgotten that. Ever since he entered, it felt like a fog had wrapped itself around his memory. He knew he was there to stop the Entity, but for some reason, it was difficult to remember how or even why. It was like Dwight had to frequently remind himself of their goal or he'd forget. He had a gut feeling it was her doing.

“They were originally built as a part of a system where miners would live there. Once they discovered the shrine, my father used the bunkers as housing for the archaeologists and translators he hired until the artifacts were sold or auctioned for profit.”

“It looked like some kind of hospital in there.”

"When the monsters appeared, it became a morgue. The Entity wasn't the only thing living down here." 

Evan jumped down from a ledge at the end of the shaft, then stood back to allow Dwight to join him at the bottom.Dwight paused at the end of the tunnel, feeling as if he'd just stepped into another dimension. Everything contained a crimson glow, not unlike the light in the basement, and it was as if they'd walked into a ruin of sort. It did remind him of the place he'd discovered after he'd almost drowned back then.

"Are we in danger?" Dwight asked, turning to carefully lower himself down.

"Yes," Evan said once Dwight's feet were firmly planted on the ground.

Dwight’s stomach flipped as he turned to face Evan, who was already headed to their left, ducking beneath a turned over stone column. The interior was the same as the area he’d discovered what felt like an eternity ago. The place was a mixture of a cavern and alien, abstract architecture that appeared to be from some sort of ancient inhuman civilization, although he tried not to allow his imagination to run wild with absurd horrors that might lay within the walls, which would only serve to put him more on edge than he already was.

There was no indication that anything in the area was built for anything human. There were no beds, no furniture, or knick-knacks that might be considered decoration to make the place feel lived-in, just stone columns and tendrils which glowed so bright they hurt to look directly into. It was like the rooms and hallways merely existed for the sake of travel or containment of something. It felt like a prison.

"Who lived down here?" Dwight asked, working to keep up with Evan's long strides.

"Don't know. Excavators uncovered it some time ago."

"Do you think the monsters lived here?"

Stepping over a gathering of tendrils, pulsating and slithering away as it sensed the presence of something nearby. Dwight shuddered at the thought of being snagged by one of those. He could feel Evan looking at him from the side from behind his mask.

"Who knows. We don't have the time to think about it," said Evan.

"I know. I just find it interesting. All of this was below us the entire time. I mean, this place exists in our world, right?"

"Yes."

"Why wasn't it—"

Evan extended a hand, and Dwight silenced himself. There was something up ahead, a spark of light, the sound of mechanical whirring, and a flicker of shadows along the walls. There was more than one, too small to be an adult but too tall to be a child.

Evan lowered his arm to retrieve his blade from his side, kneeling and pressing himself against the wall to peer around the corner. He handed it to Dwight, and he hesitantly took the heavy blade which had brutally killed him more times than he could remember.

"Don't waste another bomb," Evan warned, keeping his voice low. "Or I'll make one out of your corpse."

"O-okay."

_Stealth it is, then. He's bigger than David and Jeff, though, so how does he plan on sneaking anywhere?_

“Go on ahead,” Evan said, sending a chill up the back of Dwight’s neck. “I’ll find another way.”

“Wait, what?”

Evan was already turning away from him as if the matter had already been decided. Dwight wanted to retort, but whatever was in the room was too close for him to call after Evan as he was already using his height to lift himself back into the tunnel they’d come from.

_Are you kidding me? I don’t even know where to go. Was this his plan all along? Lead me down here and then just leave me to the monsters?_

Dwight couldn't see a way for him to climb back up the way Evan had gone, even if he didn't want to go alone. Even if he jumped, there was no way he was reaching the ledge without someone giving him a boost or using something sturdy to stand on.

_Am I supposed to be bait while they do something else?_

Seeing Evan leave so quick almost solidified his theory, but he reminded himself that he still had the bombs and Evan's blade. They needed those; they still needed him. Dwight grit his teeth, trying not to jump to any conclusions.

Looking around, there was no other direction to go, but forward, it was either risk being found by whatever made those shadows or go back and wait to see if anyone showed up through the tunnel to get him out. Which was unlikely as Evan was the only one who knew which entrance they'd taken.

_Come on, Dwight. You got this._

Stealth was one of his strengths. After all, it was how he'd survived everyday life, not just the nightmare, but in the time he'd been away from the trials, he hadn't needed it for a while. He hoped it was like riding a bike.

Dwight inhaled softly through his nostrils, then exhaled with unsteady control of his breathing but remain silent before sneaking ahead and using the wall for cover. If the shadows were correct, whatever it was, it was on the right side of the room at the end of the corridor. The sparks were gone, as was the sound of machinery, but the flickers of movement confirmed he wasn't alone.

He peered around the wall to better look at what might be in the next chamber, chamber being the only word he could think of to describe it. The room was massive, with multiple columns and a ceiling so high that it rivaled a cathedral, but it contained a pit in the center of the room, not unlike the one he'd seen the creature living in before. The chamber lacked any seating, but there did appear to be something akin to a podium in the back. It was crumbled to the ground with something burnt beside it; they looked like a bundle of parchment, half-burned by the extinguished candle at the bottom of the stone steps which led up to where the podium used to reside. Whatever that was, it didn't matter at the moment, but it was the first human thing he'd encountered so far, which meant people had been down there once before.

Something moved in the corner of the room. It darted into a gap at the bottom of the wall, so small you'd have to prone to get in there. As it left nothing but dust behind it, Dwight wished he'd gotten a better look at it. With the tendril-like vines being his only light source, it was difficult to make out things that weren't close to them. He had his flashlight but feared taking it out in case he was noticed.

“What do you make of it?”

The hushed voice of a man's whisper behind him nearly made Dwight climb out of his own skin. He whipped around, coming face to face with the last person he'd expected to see down there. Danny.

"Did you follow me?" Dwight whispered back, turning to look around the corner to make sure it hadn't heard them. 

It didn't surprise him Danny had followed him, Danny was as hard-headed as he was homicidal, but he didn't think he was physically strong enough to make it that far. Dwight wondered if Evan saw him on his way back through the passageway but doubted it. Danny was good at hiding, and Evan probably wouldn't allow him to go in there if he had spotted him. Then again, Claudette shouldn't have let him leave to begin with.

"Where's Claudette?" Dwight asked once he was sure they were still safe.

Danny placed his hand around Dwight’s mouth, shushing him softly with a finger over his lips before pointing it to a dark corner of the room. Dwight hadn’t seen it there, but something was moving, shifting in the shadows, but he couldn’t make out any visible form. It sounded wet.

Dwight nodded, mutely promising to keep quiet. Danny removed his hand from Dwight's mouth and leaned back with a barely audible grunt. He was definitely not in any shape to be down there and definitely in no condition to be climbing back out. If that thing wasn't so close, he'd berate him for being so damn reckless and coming after him.

At least Danny appeared to be relatively normal. Still, Claudette had said he needed to be administered often to keep himself from turning feral. Dwight could only hope that he'd brought the serum with him.

Dwight searched for Danny’s hand behind him. It was cold and clammy, rough with what felt like veins bulging beneath the skin. Dwight gulped. Danny made no attempt to take the lead, waiting for Dwight to make the first move; however, Dwight had no idea where to begin. What else was lurking in the darkness? He didn’t want to think about it; he just needed to get moving before it found them.

Inching forward, he held Danny's hand firmly as he approached one of the columns that were large enough to use as cover, and he gave the thing in the corner a wide berth as they moved between them. Dwight became hyper-aware of every breath and step they took; they echoed in his ears, reverberating from the walls like a drum, though the monster didn't seem to take notice. The sound likely wasn't as loud as he thought it was.

Just before he made his way to the final pillar, he spotted movement up ahead and froze in place. It was on the wall, scaling down it like some kind of reptile. He couldn’t make out what it was, but it was big, and just like the other creature, it sounded wet as it slithered into one of the holes at the bottom of the wall, big enough to look like it belonged to some kind of ventilation system, only it wasn’t. The thought of following its path made him want to puke, but there was no other exit besides the one he saw the other shadow dip inside of on the other side of the room.

Danny gently tugged his shirt, then pointed towards the ceiling when he had his attention. There was a rope attached to something metal at the very top of a ledge in the far left corner. There was no way Danny was climbing up there, though. Dwight shook his head and pointed towards the exit he’d spotted a moment before. There was no arguing, Dwight was the leader, and Danny was hurt. Regardless of the risk, he wasn’t taking the chance of injuring him further. At least, that was what he was supposed to be, but Danny was already moving towards the rope, pulling him along.

He wanted to tell him no, but held his tongue as they reached the hanging rope, weathered and frayed from age. Instead of climbing the rope, Danny took the blade from Dwight and cut it, removing a foot in length before he suddenly started to tie one end around his own wrist. Furrowing his brows, Dwight didn't quite understand but allowed him to secure the other end to his wrist, binding them together. When Danny finished, Dwight tested the knot. It was perfect; he'd expect nothing less from a serial killer.

The last time they were in the mines together, they'd been separated. Dwight wondered if perhaps this was his way of making sure that didn't happen again. Secured to one another, they didn't bother holding onto each other's hands as they made their way towards the gap in the wall. The thing was probably far enough away that they could follow after it; he just hoped it wasn't a dead end.

Dwight retrieved his flashlight, allowing Danny to keep the blade with him, and shone it into the hole. It led to another room, but there was plenty of space to get through it. The inside was covered with a fungal-like sludge, reflecting a crimson hue as the light hit it. The smell was putrid, but he'd experienced worse.

_More blight monsters?_ He wondered as he crawled into the space between the walls.

He stopped at the other side of the hole, shining his light around the next room, coated in the same sludge-like substance. It contained sizable chunks solidified against the floor and walls, making it look like some kind of nest. Shaking his head at Danny, they retreated back to the previous room. The only other way would be to get closer to the thing in the corner. There wasn’t much cover from their position to the second hole, but he didn’t see any other option besides the rope. He could tell by the contorted facial expressions Danny made that he was in pain just from crossing the room.

_Why the hell did he follow me?_ He wondered as they carefully crossed to the other side of the room.

The two paused when the creature from the corner let out a faint inhumane screech before it made its way towards the pit in the center of the room. Dwight got the strange feeling it was looking for something as its front half stuck close to the ground. Could it smell them?

The two hid behind what was left of the podium, watching the salamander shaped shadow make its way around the ring of the pit. As it got closer to their side, the two began to move, keeping their distance from the creature.

As they reached the wall, another pair of shadows emerged from the pit, the light reflecting off their bodies, which held the consistency of a slug. Dwight turned away from them, focusing on getting out of there. They were far enough away that whatever the hell was in the room with them shouldn't notice their presence.

After making sure Danny was alright, Dwight dropped to his stomach and crawled beneath the opening of the wall. The opening was just a little higher than what it would be like if he’d crawled under a car, and he could hear his backpack brushing against the ceiling. 

The rope would occasionally tug as Danny followed behind him, and thankfully, Dwight was able to reach the other side without any trouble. He sat to the side as he helped Danny squirm out from beneath it. Being a heavier build, he had gotten wedged between the ceiling and floor, but he managed to get free with enough effort. Dwight didn’t know what he would have done if Danny had gotten stuck.

Shining the light around the room, Dwight saw nothing but the occasional trail of sludge that led across the room to a wooden door left ajar and the same familiar glowing tendrils.

“I think we’re okay,” Dwight said, keeping his voice low. “Do you see anything?”

“No.”

“Good.” Dwight breathed a sigh of relief and then turned to face Danny. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Why the hell did you do something this stupid?”

“Someone has to … keep an eye on you.”

“I can take care of myself. You’re in no condition to be out here.”

Danny scoffed before cupping Dwight's cheek and leaning in to kiss him. Dwight relaxed, nearly melting into the kiss as he returned it. It felt as if he was really there with him. The real Danny and not the feral beast he had been back at the estate. He could still taste the medicine on his lips; it was definitely the same Danny he'd left there, not a doppelganger like the Claudette in the fog.

"I'm still mad at you," Dwight said once their lips parted.

“I know.” Danny chuckled. "Let's go."


	21. Chapter 21

Dwight thought for sure his legs were going to give out on him by the time they’d finally reached a room again. The halls twisted and turned like a labyrinth; some corridors were blocked by iron gates that were impossible to pass without turning a valve, most of which had rusted beyond belief due to time and moisture, making them impossible to open. Some were even bent or broken off, snapped like someone had purposefully tried to prevent anyone from using it.

The room was hung with a dozen dusty, tattered tapestries with nothing but an empty cold space made of similar material to the rest of the hallway. There were manacles set into the walls of this room, which gave Dwight the distinct impression that it was used as a prison or a torture chamber, although he couldn’t see any evidence of torture devices, just old blood and dried up blight.

One set of incredibly massive manacles - big enough to fit around the large wrists of one of the killers - had been broken open, the wall behind it stained with scorch marks in the outline of a humanoid silhouette. Near the wall were stone boxes, some with closed lids and some open that contained empty or shattered jars.

“Hey, check this out,” said Danny. He was holding his side, pointing the machete towards something on one of the nearby walls. There were hieroglyphics, or some unknown language drawn into it like someone was trying to leave a message.

"What are these?" Dwight asked.

"A guide. I think there's a cipher in Vigo's journal."

"Can you read it?"

Danny shrugged, wincing as he retrieved the journal from the inside of his jacket.

"Are you okay?" Dwight asked as he went to move Danny's jacket to the side.

Danny doesn't stop him. There was some swelling in his abdomen, surrounded by some kind of infection where he'd been shot by the monster Henry became. It surprised him that he'd been that close during the encounter, and Dwight had no idea he was even there.

"Don't worry about it," Danny said and closed his jacket before he had a chance to get a good look.

"I'm worried, Danny. Let me see."

Dwight carefully moved the trench coat again to see the wounds beneath, and Danny didn't stop him, but he looked uncomfortable. Some of his injuries were fresh, some healing, but the one thing that stood out was that it was blight he was losing, not blood. Danny had definitely encountered more than just Henry and was trying his best to hide it. Dwight wished he wouldn't push himself so hard, but he was stubborn and would do whatever he wanted regardless of anything he said, so he held his breath.

"It's fine," Danny insisted, pulling his jacket closed again. He handed him the journal they'd been carrying around for so long. It felt like an eternity ago that Dwight had first seen it back at Danny's old hideout. "See if you can find anything in there."

After giving Danny a concerned look, Dwight opened the blight-stained pages of the journal. Dried fingerprints indicated that Danny had opened it once before in the past, maybe to figure out how to stop or endure his changes. He stole another glance at Danny as he took a seat on a nearby stone box. Danny inhaled sharply as he applied pressure to his abdomen with his unbound hand when he thought Dwight wasn’t paying any attention to him anymore.

Frowning, Dwight tried to focus on the puzzle in front of him instead of worrying about Danny. He flipped through the old journal pages, searching for symbols that might resemble the ones on the wall. The only notes inside the journal mentioned a pathway to her, which Dwight assumed was the Entity, through a rift after following the signs.

Without having anything to write the symbols onto the pages with, Dwight pinched open the wound on his left hand and used a sharp stone from the ground as a makeshift pen. There was no telling what he’d just infected himself with, but he tried not to think about the consequences as he attempted to copy the images from the wall, which now that he was looking at them closer, looked as if someone had carved them in with either a stone or something metallic.

Distracted, it was moments before he realized the intense warmth against his chest until it almost burned him. Dwight hissed and pulled the amulet from beneath his shirt, illuminating the room like a candle had been lit.

"Danny?" Danny was already looking at the amulet when he turned to face him. "It's hot again."

"Maybe it's reacting to something?"

“It did the same back at the estate when I was in Evan’s gallery. Do you have any idea what it means?”

Danny's brows furrowed in thought as he dropped his gaze to the ground, searching the tiny rocks on the floor as if they held the answer.

Dwight thought Danny used to know so much about the Entity's realm and what was going on in it, but perhaps he'd always been just as confused and lost as the rest of them. He just had access to Vigo's notes, so it appeared as if he had more information than he really did. Now that Dwight was in the middle of it, he saw Danny and his involvement, different from before he'd kidnapped him after the trial. He'd always assumed he knew so much because the Entity told him, or he was just working that close to her. It had been somewhat relieving to realize the killers were in a similar predicament as the survivors.

“I don’t know,” Danny confessed after a long moment of silence. For a brief moment, before he turned his head, Danny looked defeated.

“Hey,” Dwight said, dropping the amulet back against his chest since the cloth of his shirt protected him from the heat. He knelt in front of him, placing his hands on his knees, and tried to peer up at Danny beneath his hood; however, even with the light of the amulet, it was difficult to make out an expression.

"Something's different this time. I can feel her… inside me. Trying to change me into... nothing. I don't like feeling this helpless."

Dwight didn't know how to respond to that, terrified of what that could mean for Danny’s mental state. He was a killer, a serial killer, and yet he looked so entirely human in front of him. Like someone ready to just throw in the towel, however, Danny was too stubborn to just lay down and let it happen. It was still taking its toll on him, and Dwight wondered just how much more he could take before eventually, his hope ran out like the survivors in the past.

Danny never should have come out there. It was stupid and self-sacrificial, risking his life for someone like him when he was safer back at the estate. He should have stayed with Claudette and got the treatment she was providing him. He dug his fingers into Danny's knees but relaxed when he realized he was doing it, trying to calm himself as panic tried to set in. The Entity wasn't going to take him. They were fine. He could fight it off like he fought it off before. He just hoped Danny didn't get to the point where he didn't _want_ to stop it.

"I'll do whatever it takes to get us out," Dwight promised.

It was all he could offer as he extended his arms for a hug, allowing Danny to decline it if he was in too much pain to be held. Danny allowed it; however, their embrace fell short by the clacking of stones hitting the floor near the hallway they'd come in from. The sound was far too close for comfort.

Dwight shoved the amulet back into his shirt to hide the light and grabbed Danny by the arm, pulling him behind the stone box he'd been sitting on. Pressing his back against it, he covered Danny's mouth with his hand just in case he made any sounds of distress due to his injuries. Dwight's own wounds were hurting like hell, not to mention where the amulet was trying to burn itself into his chest, but he endured it as something came into the room. Thankfully, the light of the amulet was hidden by his shirt.

Danny leaned against him, relaxing into his arms, and placed his hand over Dwight’s as if to help keep it there. The scratching of claws on the floor made Dwight’s skin crawl. It felt as if static were trailing along his arms, making the hairs of his neck stand on end. No, it wasn’t the sound that made his body react the way it did.

Dwight barely managed not to scream as the surge of electricity discharged throughout the room, illuminating the chamber in a static, white-blue hue. It took every ounce of concentration Dwight had not to give away their location as he bit down on the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted copper. He had no doubt Danny was doing the same. Neither of them could fight back against the Doctor, not even if they weren't wounded.

He dug his nails so deep into Danny's cheek and shoulder, but it was himself who let out a whimper. Unable to move from the current that was coursing throughout his body, Dwight couldn't budge to avoid the metal stick that was struck against the side of his head.

Knocked over, his head began to spin as he laid it against the cold floor. The movement behind him was muffled due to the ringing in his ears, and by the time he could move again, he felt the large arm of the Doctor wrap around his waist and lift him from the floor, only to drop him with a yell.

Dwight grunted and scurried to his feet, removing the amulet from his shirt so he could see what was happening in the room. Danny had stuck the machete into the Doctor's back, where it still remained, and the Doctor was currently trying to remove it, but unable to reach, as Danny tried to keep up with Dwight's frantic movements. Being tied to Dwight's wrist, he had no choice but to follow along as Dwight hurried for the exit. On the floor was one of the creatures they'd encountered earlier, but he had no time to investigate what looked like its corpse as they ran for the only exit in the room.

The Doctor’s booming footsteps pursued after the two of them, the buzz of electricity swarmed the air as it crackled the surrounding space, and Dwight knew another shock was coming. His ‘therapy,’ as the Doctor called it. They could avoid it if they just kept their distance further than ten meters and escape before he had time to charge another static blast, which covered a considerable distance. Dwight was out of practice, and with Danny tied to him, there wasn’t much he could do in a pinch like he could in a trial.

_‘Shit, where do I go?’_

His eyes darted along the labyrinthine corridors, checking the inside of the rooms they passed as the electricity licked at their heels. Even injured, Danny managed to get ahead of him, so when he suddenly darted to the left, Dwight hadn’t expected it. He lost his footing, tripping over his own feet, nearly dragging Danny down with him, only managing to stop him in his tracks. Danny rushed to try to help him, but the Doctor had already caught up, using his therapy to interrupt Danny, stunning him long enough to administer a blow.

The Doctor's sinister laughter faded in and out with his vision as Dwight tried to stay conscious due to his own head wound. He could tell he was bleeding profusely by the amount of it on the floor where he'd landed.

_‘Get up.’_

Dwight watched as the Doctor separated the rope from their wrists, breaking it as if it were made of paper. It took every ounce of strength for Dwight to get to his feet, but he had to do something before he killed them again.

The machete still protruded out of the Doctor's back. Dwight grabbed it by the handle. He pulled down as if it were a lever, allowing his body weight to provide the strength he needed as the machete attempted to cut through his back. The Doctor whipped around, flinging Dwight away like he was nothing but a pest, knocking him against the wall.

Dwight groaned, coughing as he attempted to pull himself to his feet again. Up ahead, he could see where Danny had been going when he'd turn so suddenly. There was an elevator in the back, and Danny was already pressing the call button, holding his wounded head as he leaned against the wall.

The Doctor pinned Dwight to the wall by his throat, crumbling the fragile stone that was probably barely holding together from decades of erosion. It felt as if the Doctor was trying to shove him through it as his massive palm pressed against his windpipe, threatening to shatter it. 

Seizing the Doctor's wrist, gasping for air, he started to instinctively pull at the large limb pinning him to the wall, but it was pointless; the Doctor's enhanced strength was impossible to break free from.

He hastily sought anything to grab onto that could be used as a weapon, but he only spotted the key card clipped to the Doctor's front pocket. Either the Doctor didn't notice or didn't care because he was going to kill him, but he ignored him when Dwight used the last of his strength to throw it over the Doctor's shoulder towards Danny, who was steadily making his way towards them, using the wall to keep himself steady.

_‘Just go,’_ Dwight thought, gritting his teeth as he started to feel as if he were floating, and colored spots dotted his vision even after he closed his eyes. As a soft hiss and a warmth enveloped him, he found himself starting to drift away.

The Doctor suddenly pulled away, dropping him to the floor with a grunt, and Dwight gripped his throat, coughing uncontrollably as he tried to catch his breath. As the fumes made their way to his lungs, Dwight realized the hiss had been coming from the wall. It was gas.

"Come on!" Danny commanded but was already pulling him to his feet and all but shoving him towards the lift as the Doctor ripped Danny's hunting knife from his throat and tossed it aside with a metallic clunk.

Behind him, the buzz of electricity surged as the Doctor charged a large amount of electricity into the palm of his hand. It only took him a second, but the static blast hit like a truck as Dwight and Danny made it inside the elevator. The attack ignited volatile gas accumulation, filling the hall with an explosive fire. The force from the explosion rocked the elevator and damaged the supports, causing them to snap. The elevator plummeted, but Dwight could not do anything but scream, fixed in place by the electricity.

——

When Dwight came to, he thought he was paralyzed, whimpering as he tried to move, but every bone in his body felt as if it were broken. When he did manage to move his fingers, it was much easier to move the rest of his body. Opening his eyes, they stung, but Dwight was glad to see he was still in the cave. He hadn't died.

“Danny?” He whispered, his throat too sore to speak any louder as he stared at the ceiling because it hurt too much to turn his head.

Danny was next to him, a worried expression on his injured face as he peered over him, cupping his cheek to turn his head to face him. Dwight smiled weakly, closing his eyes again, relieved to see that Danny made it out okay, too.

“Are we… safe?” Dwight managed to ask louder this time, his voice hoarse.

“The shaft collapsed, but I think the explosion got him.” Danny glanced behind him before turning his attention back to Dwight. His cheek was cut where Dwight had dug his nails in and bruised. Blood had dried along his face due to the head wound, but it seemed like it had stopped. Dwight was sure he looked just as rough.

“Good.”

Dwight tried to sit up, wincing as Danny aided him, supporting his back and his neck as he did. It hurt, but not as much as he expected it to. If anything was broken, it might have healed already, depending on how long they were down there. However, his left shoulder was definitely dislocated. The pain was almost unbearable as he tried to apply pressure to the limb, not sure if that was the correct thing to do or not, but he did know he needed to relocate it.

The elevator shaft had indeed collapsed in on itself, but Dwight couldn't tell if all the rubble blocking the entrance was from the crash or if Danny had tried to barricade it. Regardless, it was good since nothing could follow after them.

A sourceless, warm glow suffused the chamber they were now in, dripping with water from the stalactite, which united with the stalagmite along the flooded floor. Thankfully it appeared as if they were alone. The cavern looked familiar, and the hole in the ceiling confirmed his suspicions; the only thing missing was his broken glasses, which were probably under the water somewhere. There hadn’t been so much growth before, but time was different in the Entity’s realm, so who was to say it hadn’t been a hundred years or more since he was last there.

“Are you okay?” Dwight asked once he’d gathered his bearings.

He felt it was a stupid question considering their shared head wounds, but Danny just nodded as he retrieved the key card from inside his jacket, holding it out to him. Dwight breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let's find a way out of here," Danny said, returning the card to his jacket.

“Any idea where to go next?” Dwight asked, steadily getting to his feet with the help of Danny to balance him. His stability was still slightly off due to the possible damage to his inner ear, but he adjusted after a few seconds.

“Up,” he said, looking at the shaft. “Maybe there’s another way?”

Dwight sighed. “Does this nightmare ever end?”

“It will once we end it,” Danny reminded him. “We’re close.”

“I hope you’re right.” He looked at his shoulder and knew it was futile to keep prolonging the inevitable. “Hey, Danny? Can you reset my shoulder, please?”

Danny looked surprised to see the injury at first but nodded as he gently took hold of the limb in both hands.

“Try not to scream,” he suggested.


End file.
